


Arms

by VirginiaMay



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst, F/M, Sexual Content, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-27
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirginiaMay/pseuds/VirginiaMay
Summary: After witnessing the brutal murder of her parents, sharpshooter & former Olympian Bella Swan is forced to live under a new identity as a high school student in tiny Forks, WA. Will unexpected feelings for the wrong man be her undoing or her salvation? AH





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Rated MA/NC-17. Some scenes, including the opening scene of this story, describe graphic events and gun violence which may be upsetting to some readers. Please read with caution. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All fictional characters, government agencies, songs and brands belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> Beta'd by SueBee0619. Banner by MizzKing of TwiFicPics.

          I stare straight ahead. Frozen.  The sight before me is beyond grotesque.  Horror movies have nothing on real life.  I realize now that even the first-rate films have failed to capture what human blood looks like when it’s spilled in this volume; thick, dark, flowing freely, and congealing as it goes.  They’ve failed to properly duplicate the sickening gurgling sound of air rasping through a gaping chest wound.  They cannot convey the scent of metal and salt hanging heavy in the air.

          I’ve never even noticed that blood has a scent to it before.  It does, and it twists my stomach.  Or maybe it’s the sight of the utterly still bodies in the room that makes me retch. 

          My father’s face flashes through my consciousness and I know for a fact that this was never his intent when he taught me to use a firearm.  He educated me about guns because, in his job as a law enforcement officer, they were going to be in our home.  He wanted me to be safe.  He wanted me to know –not to have to wonder- how they worked.  He wanted me to understand what made them dangerous and experience the power of them.  He wanted me to learn how to act around them and how not to act around them.  And he taught me all of those things hands-on. 

          In the hope of preventing a future tragedy born out of mere curiosity, he put a gun in my hands for the first time when I was little more than ten years old.  It gave me the respect my father desired for me to have by scaring the ever loving tar out of me as soon as I pulled the trigger.  That might have been it for me.  _Boom!_ –one shot and I’d be too scared to ever touch a gun again.  Most kids would have that reaction.  Not me.  Not after looking out at the target to see that the single shot I’d taken had gone right through the bulls-eye.

          I look over at my dad now, hoping for a moment to see the look he gets in his eyes when I’ve made the perfect shot.  I regret it immediately and the bile rises in my throat.  I barely avoid vomiting and back up against the wall, sliding to the floor in a heap.  My father’s loving and handsome face is twisted in a grimace.  It’s practically unrecognizable as belonging to the man who both coached me to an Olympic gold medal and sang me to sleep when I was scared the night before my first day of Kindergarten.  His once bright eyes are now dull, but open and locked on my mother.

          I wonder if he was hoping I could save her.  I know he thought he could always count on me.  And even though I did manage to get to the small revolver he kept hidden in our foyer, I know I let him down.  Then again, the quick draw was never my event.  My father knew that.  I hope he would have been proud of me just the same.  I did manage to nail the son of a bitch who shot my mom, even if it was a moment too late.  If only she hadn’t fought for me.  If only she’d stayed still. 

          _Oh, mom..._

          I can’t bring myself to look anywhere near her.  Her face during the final moment of her life is already etched in my memory; her expression desperate with fear and rage, her normally bright blue eyes wide and reddened from tears.  I’ll never forget how they lost focus as the gunshots rang out.  I’ll never be able to erase the weak, but brave smile she tried to offer me as she sunk to the ground. 

          I feel my eyes gravitating towards that spot.  Knowing I don’t want to see her like that again, I try to find something else to focus on.  I realize the television is still on.  I know that it must have been my beautiful, carefree mother watching tonight because one of the judges from So You Think You Can Dance is waxing philosophical about contemporary jazz while a couple of dancers in wild costumes are smiling ear to ear.  The girl is wiping tears from her eyes. 

          I look away and blink.  Odd, I don’t notice any of my own tears falling.  I frown, knowing I should be hysterical right now.  I should be crying, screaming, wailing for God and everyone else to hear.  But I can’t.  I can’t feel anything at all. 

          I think I’m might be in shock.  The more I think about it, I realize that must be the case.  I try to cry, but I can’t.  I try to look away from the dark red blood that’s now spreading across the floor.  I try to move away from it, I try to lower my arms, I desperately try to drop the weapon in my hands, but I can’t.  I can’t move a muscle. 

          When the police finally show up, I’m still sitting slumped against the wall with my father’s revolver trained on the exact spot where his killer previously stood.  I think I hear someone mention the FBI.  I think I hear someone gasp, “No, not Charlie”.  I think I hear my name as well, but I’m not sure.  Now in addition to being unable to move, the rest of my senses are dull. 

          The custom handgun I bought for my father for his last birthday is pried from my fingers.  Someone shines a light in my eyes and speaks to me.  I blink. 

          The eerie calm of the last long minutes is shattered and the room becomes disturbingly chaotic.  There are more voices now.  More lights shining in my eyes.  I begin shivering as a dizzy feeling overwhelms me.  A blanket is placed over me.  I’m lifted and moved into a chair.  My name is called again.  I nod. 

          _Yes, I’m Detective Charlie Swan’s daughter._

          _Yes, my name is Isabella._

          There are more questions.  I don’t know the answers.  It leads to more questions. 

          _No, I don’t think this is my blood._

          _No, I’m not hurt._

          If I was hurt I would be in pain, right?  But I can’t feel anything.  I’m so cold.    

          There are more questions, more voices, but suddenly I’m not only cold and dizzy, but I feel like I can’t breathe.  I feel like I’m falling. 

          I try to push out of the arms that catch me.  They feel wrong.  Foreign.  They are not my father’s arms.  I want these arms to let me go, but I lack the strength to make them.  I suck in a gasping breath and a single agonized cry escapes my lips before I mercifully surrender to the darkness. 

~(~)~

 

          I feel like I’m finally waking up from a horrific nightmare.  Except, when I open my eyes to the muted dim of another grey and rainy day, I remember that the nightmare is real and won’t end, not even in my waking hours. 

          It’s been eight weeks since the night my life as I’d known it ended.  It’s been a little less than two weeks since I stopped reliving the event over and over every night in my dreams.  The medication Dr. Cullen recommended for me after I arrived here took some time to work to its full effect.  Even once it kicked in, he warned me that it may be a little longer for my body to recover from being so sleep deprived.  I stretch beneath the sheets and realize he was right.  I do feel better, which sort of irks me.  I’ve had a full-on case of survivor’s guilt and part of me doesn’t want to be free of the dreams that replay the horrors of that dark November night. 

          The night my parents were murdered in cold blood, the night I let them die.

          I sigh and tell myself again that it’s not healthy for me to think about it like that.  I know there’s nothing else I could have done.  I also know that torturing myself will do no good.  I think idly that my parents wouldn’t want me to do so.  And I’m reminded regularly that if I want to bring those who are responsible for their deaths to justice, then I have to stay sane, healthy, and safe. 

          I look out the window and wonder again why that means that I also had to be sent to live in the rainiest, dreariest, most depressing town I’ve ever been in.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so depressing if I were used to living in the cold and the rain.  But I’m not. 

          I miss Phoenix.  I miss the heat and the dry.  I miss the sun and the white-blue sky.  I miss the desert, and dry air, and the color brown.  I miss the little stucco house I bought not far from my parents’ place.  I miss my xeriscaped lawn and my solar-heated pool.  I also miss my king size bed quite a lot too.  I stretch in my new bed again and think there’s just about nothing I wouldn’t give for one more night in my Tempur-Pedic.  Then I think that’s not even close to being true. 

          There’s only one thing I would give anything for, and that would be to have my mom and dad back.  To have never had to set foot in tiny Forks, Washington. 

          I roll my eyes.  Who names a town Forks?  I get the whole thing with the fork in the two rivers, but it just sounds weird.  And I feel weird saying it.  Almost as weird as I feel living here, or pretending to be a seventeen year-old foster child. 

          There’s a quick knock on the door and a soft voice reminding me that I have school today.  Reminding me that I am indeed impersonating a teenager.  Reminding me that I’m no longer a twenty-three year old college graduate and former Olympic champion, that I no longer have my own life. I have no job, no family, no opportunity to go to another Olympics.  I don’t even have my name anymore.  It’s all gone. 

          My entire life has been replaced by a charade; a necessary charade, but a charade nonetheless.    

          Groaning, I sit up.  I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror across the room and think it’s a good thing that my new “foster parents” haven’t seen me like this.  Surely the dark circles and bags under my eyes would give me away.  I’m still not convinced that anyone will buy that I’m under eighteen.  But the U.S. Marshals assigned to protect me seem to think so and are convinced it’s the best way to keep me alive.  They’ve never lost anyone who trusted in and cooperated with them, so I have to believe that this might just be crazy enough to work. 

          From the moment the authorities arrived on the night my parents were murdered, I was considered to be a key witness in a long-standing federal case against an internationally wanted Romanian crime family.  Apparently they had recently begun activities in Arizona and one of my father’s officers stumbled across a gold-mine of incriminating information.  When the officer involved showed Charlie what he found, my father made a few calls around town and did some digging before turning everything over to the feds.  Somehow, the Romanians found out my dad was asking after them and decided to try and buy him off at gunpoint.  When he refused, they threatened my mother, and when I revealed my presence in the house that night it all went horribly wrong. 

          My stomach twists in knots at the memories and I’m glad that I have something else to focus on for the day.  Not that the thought of going back to high school doesn’t have me worried, because it does.  I remember it all too well from the first time around: the cliques, the drama, the uninteresting homework.  Then there were the patronizing teachers who I’d always had a hard time being patient with even when I went through high school the first time.  How was I supposed to deal with that now that I’d been to college?  I’m old enough to be working on my Master’s degree, not relearning the square root of pi.  

          I shower and dress, making sure my attire is suitably appropriate for a seventeen year-old.  It’s my first day, so I choose casual clothes –some jeans and a plaid shirt, making sure to wear long sleeves underneath since I’m likely to freeze to death in this climate.  I hastily dry my hair and keep it down, but put in a narrow headband.  I apply only a touch of clear mascara and a little lip-gloss to my face.  I feel almost naked as I evaluate myself in the mirror.  The naked feeling isn’t for the lack of make-up as I rarely wear a lot anyway; I’m just afraid these kids are going to see right through me.  They’ll never believe I’m one of them.  Will they?

          I pick up my bag and head downstairs to deal with my foster parents first.  At least they don’t expect me to act like any other normal teenager.  I’m thankful that they at least know some version of the truth wherein I was orphaned after witnessing my parents’ deaths.  They know I’ve been traumatized.  They just don’t know the extent of it.  They don’t know how or why my parents died, or that I myself shot two people in the process.  They don’t know that I’m a federal witness still at risk.  And if we’re all very lucky, they’ll never know.        

          When I reach the kitchen, Esme Cullen is busy washing some dishes.  She’s made breakfast and what looks like a lunch for me, which is sitting out on the counter.  I wish she wouldn’t go to any trouble at all where I’m concerned.  I imagine that I’m no different from any other foster child in that respect.  The fact that the last person to make me a lunch for school died not long ago just hurts.  That seems to happen whenever she does something even remotely mother-like.  I notice she’s made coffee and set up her laptop on the kitchen table.  A pang of grief hits me seeing that as well.  My father often used our family table as his desk.  It drove my mom crazy since he had a real desk in the den. 

          “Good morning, Anna Bella,” Esme says, interrupting my memories.  She turns from the sink and smiles kindly at me.  I have to give her credit.   Were I an actual teenager in need of a new mother figure, she’d be perfect.  She’s patient and kind and never pushes me too hard.  I wish I could relax more around her, but I feel odd and out of place most the time.  I also feel guilty that I’m living a lie right underneath her nose. 

          “Morning,” I say quietly. 

          “Carlisle wanted me to wish you luck today,” she answers brightly. “He had to leave for the hospital already, of course.”

          I nod and say thank you. 

          “I felt like having a real breakfast this morning since I have a meeting at lunchtime.  I made scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, and whole wheat toast.  The eggs have some veggies in them.  I hope that’s okay.”

          “That’s fine, thank you.”  I try to smile, but it’s hard.  All I really want is a strong cup of coffee, a banana, and to go home.  But I have a feeling that telling Esme any one of those things would make her frown and I just can’t bear that. 

          As I take the plate she’s offering me in my hands, I wonder not for the first time how she will feel when and if she ever finds out that I’m not who I say I am.  Or who the state says I am, I suppose.  Will she and Dr. Cullen be upset that I’m not really Anna Bella Dwyer?  Will they feel used and resent ever letting me into their home?  What if the people who are looking for me find me and they end up hurt?  Will they hate me?

          I decided when I came here two weeks ago that it’s less likely they’ll hate me if they don’t get too attached to me.  I also decided it would help if I lie to them as little as possible, which means interacting with them only when it’s necessary.  I’ve always been a quiet person, but since my parent’s deaths I’ve allowed myself to grow more introverted.  I think that will work to my advantage with the Cullens.  They’re wonderful people, they really deserve better, but I just think it’s easier and safer to keep them at arm’s length.

          We finish breakfast in companionable silence, and Esme walks me out to the car they’ve given me to drive to and from school.  It’s a Volvo, which makes me want to laugh for some reason.  I guess they wanted to provide the safest possible car for driving on the wet roads here.  In my case however, I need more than a five star safety rating to keep me safe.  I’m fairly sure I need bullet-proof glass as well. 

          Unaware of my thoughts, Esme smiles and hands me my lunch.

          “So,” she says softly, “You already have your schedule, but check-in with the office when you get there.  Mrs. Cope was going to try and see if she could move you into another math class, remember?”

          I start to object, but a wave of her hand stops me.

          “I know you said you don’t mind being in our son’s class, but he and Carlisle both agreed that it could be construed as a conflict of interest for him to be your teacher since you’re now, to some degree, an extended part of the family. Never mind the fact that you two haven’t even met yet since he just _had_ to go skiing in Colorado for New Year’s.”  She rolls her eyes amusedly.  “Anyway, if they can’t switch you, I’m sure it will be fine, but at least we can say we tried.”

          I nod and move to get in the car.

          “Have a wonderful day today, Anna Bella.”

          “Thank you.  You too,” I answer.

          I start the engine and head down the winding driveway towards the two-lane highway that will take me into town.  While I drive, I think about the Cullen’s grown son.  Edward, now a high school math teacher and Navy Reservist, came to live with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen roughly eighteen years ago when he was not quite eleven years old.  His biological father had been in the Navy (an obvious source of inspiration) but died in a training accident when Edward was just a toddler.  Following his father’s death, his mother became severely depressed and eventually ended up leaving him with her own mother to be cared for.  He was then put into the system after the elderly woman died. 

          That same year, after nearly a decade of not being able to conceive a child of their own, Carlisle and Esme made the decision to adopt.  They were originally hoping to bring home a baby or toddler, but while visiting the adoption agency, they’d both been affected by the staggering number of older children waiting for good homes.  Carlisle pointed out ten year-old Edward’s picture on a bulletin board and Esme was immediately taken with him.  When they met their bond was instantaneous.  Well... according to Carlisle anyway.  Of course, that didn’t mean things had always been perfect for them as a family, but eventually Edward adjusted to his new life and even asked the Cullens to legally adopt him.  In the years that followed, they took on two other foster children who eventually became theirs as well.

          Emmett McCarty came to live with the Cullens about four years after Edward did.  The boy was just twelve when Edward witnessed him shoplifting granola bars from the sporting goods store in town.  When Edward confronted him, Emmett bolted from the store and ended up getting hit by a car in the parking lot.  Edward was apparently guilt-stricken and felt responsible for the accident.  He lied to the paramedics, telling them he was the boy’s brother in order to go with him to the hospital and once there, Edward ran to Carlisle and told him the whole story.  While Dr. Cullen tended to Emmett’s injuries, he discovered evidence of a history of abuse and neglect.  Several well-placed phone calls and the Cullens were made his temporary guardians.  Several months later, they began proceedings to adopt him.

          Then, two years after Emmett joined their family, the Cullens received some shocking news.  It turned out that Edward’s biological mother had given birth to another child shortly after disappearing from his life.  Sadly, when the woman finally succumbed to her debilitating depression not long before Edward’s seventeenth birthday, he was discovered to be Victoria Masen’s only known family.  Of course, Esme and Carlisle jumped at the chance to take their son’s sister in, but the girl –who preferred to go by Tori - hadn’t come as willingly as the two boys.  It took every ounce of patience and love Esme and Carlisle had to care for the beautiful but obstinate thirteen year-old.  

 

          I finally reach the end of the long driveway, and pull myself back to the present before looking both ways on the highway and pulling out.  I spot the Cullen’s new “neighbor” across the road as I proceed.  He’s fiddling with something in the back of his pick-up, which is stopped by his mailbox.  The man glances up at me and I nod once in greeting, knowing he’s been waiting for me. 

          Deputy U.S Marshal Jasper Whitlock is working undercover, supposedly having moved to Forks about a week prior to my placement with the Cullens.  Esme and Carlisle believe he’s just the guy who bought the old house across the street in order to fix it up and sell it for a profit.  Of course, the truth is, his purpose here has nothing at all to do with real estate and everything to do with keeping me safe. 

          Deputy Whitlock gets in his truck as I make the turn onto the highway and he follows me to school.  He keeps going straight when I turn into the lot, but I know he’ll be close by to see how I do.  Once my identity here appears to be accepted as fact, he’ll be on his way to protect and shelter the next witness in need.  It makes me nervous to think of being on my own, but I’m well aware the government can’t afford to have their U.S. Marshals acting as one-on-one bodyguards for every last witness they protect. 

          After I arrive at school, the start of my day is a little rough.  I feel like an imposter from the moment I step out of my borrowed Volvo.  The rest of the cars in the high school parking lot are what Charlie had affectionately called “beaters”.  My first car was a beater.  The Volvo I’m driving now isn’t even close.  It’s shiny and silver, and it garners attention that I seriously want to avoid.  The students stare at me and I can’t help but wonder if my cover is already blown. 

          When I reach the office, I’m informed that there is no room for me anywhere else but in Edward Cullen’s trigonometry class.  I feel a surge of anxiety knowing he’d prefer I not be there.  I also cringe a little just remembering how much I hated trig the first time around.  After third period English, I spend my walk to fourth period math hoping that I haven’t forgotten everything I learned about sines, cosines and tangents.  And were functions learned in trigonometry?  Or was that calculus?  I am still contemplating this as I turn to walk into the classroom with my head down.

          “Oh!” 

          In a split second, I find myself flat on my back. I’m completely stunned, lying on the floor, and having a difficult time inhaling a breath. 

          Even as the pain starts to register, I’m wondering what the hell just happened.  After a lifetime of being somewhat uncoordinated, looking at my feet while I walk is usually sufficient to keep me from falling over.  I’m puzzled as to why that wasn’t the case this time.  It starts to make a little sense when a face materializes in my field of vision and begins to apologize profusely.

          “Are you okay?  I am so sorry, I didn’t see you.  Are you alright?”

          I nod breathlessly and try to focus my eyes on the vision hovering above me.  I must have hit my head pretty hard because the sexiest man I’ve ever seen is kneeling over me and sliding his hand beneath my head. He’s way too good-looking for this to be real.

          “Can you sit up, sweetheart?  Did you hit your head?” he asks.  I don’t answer right away so he flexes his fingers against my scalp and runs his eyes over my supine form.  I shiver involuntarily and my mouth falls open a little.  Soft green eyes meet my brown ones and I’m rendered both speechless as well as incapable of looking away. 

          “Mr. Cullen?  What happened here?” I hear a voice ask.  I think it might be Ms. Meyer who teaches ninth and tenth grade English. I met her when I registered for classes last week.  “Is she alright?” she asks.

          Professor Sexy doesn’t answer right way, nor does he break my gaze until we hear someone else shriek.

          “Oh, my gosh!  What did you do to the new girl, Mr. Cullen!?”

          Mr. Cullen, my sort of foster brother who I realize I’ve called Professor Sexy in my head, looks down the hall with a sharp expression.  “Nothing.  Just go on to class.  Now.”

          His words and the feeling of another set of hands on me, bring me back from whatever daze I was in.  My face colors in embarrassment and I sit up with Ms. Meyer’s assistance. 

          “I’m sorry,” I stammer.  “I’m fine.”

          Mr. Cullen and Ms. Meyer both look at me and frown.

          “Are you sure?” she asks.

          “Maybe we should have that bump on your head checked out,” he says.

          I answer them both in order.  “I’m fine.  And my head’s fine.”  I rub it, just to be sure.  “If it still hurts later, I’ll just ask your father to take a look at it,” I add specifically for Mr. Cullen.

          When I glance up I see that he has paled considerably.  “You’re Anna Bella?” he asks, his voice cracking over the name.

          Ms. Meyer laughs quietly behind me.  “Who else would she be, Edward?  It’s not like we get new students here every day.”

          Edward... _No,_ not Edward _,_ I tell myself.  _Mr. Cullen_ takes a moment to process what the other teacher said and then smirks.  It’s lopsided, and adorable, and I want to see him do it again.  Just the thought makes my face turn red and I wonder what is wrong with me.

          “Yeah, I guess you have a point,” Mr. Cullen says and offers me his hand to help me stand.  “Welcome to Forks High School, Anna Bella.  I’m sorry that we met this way.”

          I stare at his hand a little too long and Ms. Meyer pats my shoulder.  “Come on, kiddo.  If you’re not hurt, you need to get up.  Class is about to start.”

          I know she’s right, so I grasp onto Mr. Cullen’s hand and he pulls me up.  When our eyes meet again, it’s like the rest of the world has fallen away.  I can feel his touch send waves of pleasure throughout my entire body and it’s wonderful, but also completely terrifying.  I pull away and rush off to into the classroom, somehow getting to a desk in the back without making a fool of myself again. 

          The hour goes by slowly, the ache in my head growing as the minutes wear on.  I’m relieved when class wraps up and Mr. Cullen gets ready to dismiss us.  When the bell rings, I rise to go straight to my locker for some Tylenol before lunch. 

          “Miss Dwyer.  Could I speak to you for a moment?” Mr. Cullen asks before I’ve taken two steps.  I’m getting better about responding to my alias and barely hesitate when he calls me. 

          Turning slowly, I feel my heart start to pound in my chest as the rest of the students leave.  Anxiety causes me to start shaking slightly; the feeling of not knowing what he wants from me is sickening.  Is this about our awkward introduction?  Maybe my lack of participation in class today?   Or does he see right through me and is already suspicious that I’m not really seventeen?

          “Yes?” I ask when I get to his desk.  He stands and comes around to lean against the side. 

          “Is your head okay?”

          “Yes,” I lie.

          “Okay, that’s good.”

          He’s quiet for a moment and looks to the door briefly before he speaks again.

          “Um, I just wanted to introduce myself properly.  I think my mother would have my hide for knocking you off your feet like I did and leaving it at that.”

          He smirks again like he did earlier and my stupid mouth falls open in response.  I take a deep breath in through my nose before I can manage a response. 

          “That’s okay,” I say unsteadily.  “I won’t... I won’t tell Esme if you don’t.”

          He chuckles and his smirk grows into a lopsided smile that takes my breath away.  “Thank you,” he says.  “I appreciate that.”

          I can’t answer, but just grin back dumbly.  He’s got this whole thing going for him like he’s freakin’ Tom Cruise in Top Gun, only much taller and hotter.  I can totally see him as a hot shot Navy pilot and wonder what he did in the Navy.  I also wonder what would make him want to come back to a rainy little town like this after living the military life.  There’s no hint of the reason in his brilliant eyes, and I have to shake my head to try and clear it as their green depths swim with amusement and something else I can’t even identify. 

           Eventually his gaze flickers to the door behind me again, and I’m released from the power of his crooked, smirky smile. 

          “I should let you get to lunch,” he says staring over my shoulder for a moment.  “We can get to know each other a little more some other time.  And I’m sorry again for what happened before class.  What a way to meet, huh?”

          “Yeah,” I say, blushing. 

          He’s quiet for a moment. 

          “Alright, well off you go,” he says, moving back behind his desk.  “See you tomorrow, Anna Bella.”

          “It’s Bella,” I say without thinking.

          “I’m sorry?” Edward asks, his eyebrows raised.

          “I...um.”  I briefly think about lying, but then I realize I don’t want to lie to him.  “It’s just Bella.  Unless I’m in trouble.”

          He smiles and my breath quickens.  “Okay, Bella then.  We’ll see you tomorrow.”

          I nod and bite my lip as I make my way from the classroom, somehow finding my way back to my locker.  I take two Tylenol even though I’m distracted from my headache by the myriad of other feelings that are pulsing through me, the most dominant being bewilderment. 

          _Why did I do that?  Why is this happening?_ I wonder.  _Why now?_   _Why him?_  

          And most importantly, why when I need to stay numb for the sake of everyone involved, do I meet someone who may very well make me feel more than I’ve ever felt before? 

~(~)~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After witnessing the brutal murder of her parents, sharpshooter & former Olympian Bella Swan is forced to live under a new identity as a high school student in tiny Forks, WA. Will unexpected feelings for the wrong man be her undoing or her salvation? All-Human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Rated MA/NC-17. Some scenes, including the opening scene of this story, describe graphic events and gun violence which may be upsetting to some readers. Please read with caution.

~(~)~

          After a long, hard cry the night following my first encounter with Edward Cullen, I manage to regain my composure and push away the feelings he stirred inside me.  I feel as though I sleepwalk through the rest of the week, avoiding Mr. Cullen and his parents whenever possible.  Unfortunately, I’m really struggling with the material in the former’s class.  Despite Anna Bella Dwyer’s transcripts saying she was getting a “B” in math at her last school, I’m now getting a “D”. 

          I can handle being a sub-standard student considering it’s my second time through this and I don’t need these grades at all.  However, Mr. Cullen doesn’t know that, and he pulls me aside on Friday to ask me what I’m having trouble with.  I can’t find an answer for him and I’m afraid to even look at him with his hypnotic green eyes, chiseled jaw, and tousled bronze hair.  He seems to sense this and taps my chin lightly with his finger to get my attention.  It seems too intimate a gesture between teacher and student, but then maybe I wouldn’t think so if I were really a teenager and not an overly frustrated twenty-something who’d never met a man quite as intriguing or as handsome as this one. 

          “Can you tell me what’s going on inside that brain of yours?” he asks genuinely. 

          I try to smile, but I can’t.  “I don’t know.” 

          He seems to study me for a moment.  “Bella, are you just having a hard time adjusting?”

          I look at the floor and bite my lip.  “Maybe.  I guess.”

          “Is it home or school you find hardest?”

          “Both,” I admit.

          He takes a breath.  “Well, I’ve been there.  I know how that feels.  So if you ever want to talk –here or outside of school, or whatever – just let me know.”

          I glance up, both enticed by his offer to talk and indignant that he thinks he knows anything about how I feel.  It’s rather arrogant of him, despite the fact that my situation is something most teachers would never come across in a million years.  Still, he knows that I lost both my parents recently and I find it offensive that he would compare our situations without knowing the details. 

          When I don’t answer him, he continues talking.

          “I know Esme had to have told you that I’m adopted,” he says.

          “She did,” I answer shortly, trying and failing to reign in my irritation. “But that doesn’t mean you know how I feel.  Because you don’t.  And I appreciate you trying to be nice to me for your mother’s sake, but I really don’t need-”

          “Whoa now, hold on a second there,” he stops me.  “I’m not doing anything for my mother’s sake here, Bella.  I’m your teacher.  It’s my job to care about how you’re doing.  In school and otherwise.  Not to mention, I have a dozen or so years of life experience on you.  If you’re struggling, let me help.  Let me do my job.”

          I snort and then scowl at him, reacting on hurt feelings and indignation alone. 

          “Look, your job is to teach me math,” I snap.  “Even if it was more than just that, I don’t need anyone trying to help me out of some ridiculous sense of obligation.”

          “Obligation?” he asks, eyes flashing and voice rising.  He looks offended.  So much so I think he’s going to yell but, with a quick swallow that makes his Adam’s apple bob, he regains his composure.  “Perhaps we ought to finish this conversation another time, young lady.  I only want to help you.  I have no interest in arguing with you.”

          I roll my eyes at him.  “Don’t dismiss me like I’m a child.  You don’t know anything about me.”

          “Anna Bella-”

          I ignore him and turn to leave his classroom in a huff.   Pathetically, I forget that there’s a desk right behind me and almost fall on my face while attempting to escape.  Mr. Cullen’s hands reach out and steady me. 

          “Easy,” he murmurs. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

          I pause only for a moment while his long fingers remain around my waist.  He lets go immediately, but not soon enough to avoid my heart fluttering wildly again.  I can also feel the heat of his warm chest against my back now.  Unbidden, my mind decides that I’d really like to lean backwards and have him wrap me in his arms.  Instead, I shake off my insane thoughts and fly out of the classroom as fast as I can.

          The rest of the day, all I can think about are Mr. Cullen’s hands and our argument.  Or rather, the way I blew up at him for simply caring about the child he thinks that I am.  I have to tell myself he sees me this way, because my body still tingles when I think of him touching me and nothing good can come from that.

          It’s obvious when I watch him with my classmates that Edward is a great teacher and would never cross that line with a student.  As the day goes on, I also realize that this means he only approached me because he felt obliged to help me with math.  I feel disappointed and disgusted at the same time.  Disappointed because I wish his interest in me were more.  Disgusted because I shouldn’t be thinking that way about him.   

          When I go to my locker at the end of the day to put my books away, I stand in front of it longer than necessary, trying to decide if I should go back to Mr. Cullen’s classroom and apologize.  I decide not to, fearful of what I would say to explain my behavior.  There’s so much that I can’t tell him and the memory of his body so close to mine still permeates my mind.  I can’t risk it.

          When Saturday morning arrives, I am greatly relieved I don’t have to see Edward Cullen for another two days.  I spend a good amount of the morning contemplating my confusing feelings for him. I don’t even try to pretend that I don’t find him attractive.  I do, and from what I’ve heard in the cafeteria during the week, I’m not the only one.  Every female in Forks is hot for the guy.  For that reason, I don’t let that particular issue bother me as much as others.  Like how it felt when his hands were around my waist, for one.  Or the way it affected me when he gave me his hand to help me up off the floor. 

          I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.  I want to know if he experiences anything at all similar to what I do, but then I am horrified because that would mean he was some kind of pedophile.  Wouldn’t it?  I mean, he does believe I’m seventeen after all. 

          A long shower and several hours of homework do very little to take my mind off of Mr. Cullen.  My math book stares back at me while I study, mocking me.  It takes me an hour to get through half of the assignment, and I’m wondering how inappropriate it would be for me to ask my teacher’s mommy if she could get him to tutor me. 

          Just the thought of one on one time with Edward is enough to nip that idea in the bud.   No good could come from such an arrangement.  It would be far better for me to struggle through a half a year of math than it would be to risk compromising my teacher’s integrity or my cover story. 

          I don’t even realize I’ve been locked away in my room all day until I hear voices coming from downstairs and look up at the clock.  It’s almost evening and I’ve barely said two words to my foster parents today.  I decide to go downstairs for the rest of the night, and it’s only when I’m halfway down that I realize the male voice I hear isn’t Carlisle’s.  I pause on the landing and step back into the shadows, listening quietly

          “I honestly don’t know, honey.  She barely speaks to us about it.  Why the sudden curiosity in her?”

          The response comes from the same soothing voice that I hear every day at school. 

          “I don’t know.  I just... I just think she’s in some kind of trouble.  I can’t explain it.  Just something seems... off.”

          “What makes you say that?”

          Esme’s voice sounds too careful.  As if she isn’t surprised to hear his observations.

          “Mom... what do you know?”

          I almost laugh at his tone, but listen carefully instead.  Not that I don’t know the backstory the U.S. Marshals gave the Cullens when I moved here.  My alias came complete with a convincing but vague file from Washington Child Protection Services.

          “We don’t know much, other than she witnessed her parents’ deaths and they were apparently murdered.  By whom, nobody seems to know.  Social Services only told us that it wasn’t her, and if anyone should ever call or come around asking questions about her, we should inform her case worker right away.”

          “You’re kidding.”

          “No, I wish I were.  She was old enough to have been emancipated, or go to a group home, but the state wanted to place her somewhere they could be sure she was safe.”

          “Mom.  That’s...” his voice fades.

          “I know.”

          “And Dad agreed to this?” he asks incredulously.  “I mean, what if someone does come looking for her?”

          Esme sighs.  “Then we’ll handle it together.  She wouldn’t be any safer in a group home.  In fact, she’d be more likely to fall through the cracks and disappear.  Or run away.  You know how those places are.”

          I hear Mr. Cullen hum and it gets quiet for a few moments.  I consider trying to sneak back upstairs without being heard, but I don’t think I can make it without revealing that I’ve been eavesdropping.

          “Mom?” I hear Mr. Cullen ask.

          “Yes?”

          “Thank you,” he replies.  “Even if it’s dangerous, I’m really glad she’s here with you and Dad.  I feel oddly... protective of her.”

          “Really?” Esme exclaims.  “Well, I think that’s very sweet, honey.”

          “I don’t know if that’s the word I would use,” I hear Mr. Cullen mutter, though I’m barely able to make the words out.    

          “What do you mean?” she asks.

          He exhales forcefully.  “It just means that I’m her teacher and I shouldn’t be feeling anything for her.  At least, not outside of wanting her to succeed academically.”

          “Well, she’s also your sister of sorts.”

          “That doesn’t make it any better, Mom.”

          Just then the front door swings open and Dr. Cullen walks in announcing that he’s home.  I take the opportunity to run back upstairs and pull myself together.   I chastise my heart for beating wildly in a way that has nothing to do with my sprint up the stairs.  I know it’s beating this way because Edward Cullen feels something for me.  For the moment, I don’t really care what it is, I’m just glad I’m not entirely alone in the inappropriate feelings department. 

          As soon as I’ve composed myself, I head back downstairs to join the Cullens and resume my role as the shy, traumatized foster child.  It isn’t hard.  The only thing that’s hard is looking at or speaking to Edward without blushing.  I can only hope nobody notices.

          When it’s time to say hello, I greet him with a simple, “Hi, Mr. Cullen.”  Esme tells me I can call him Edward at home, but I decide it’s better to avoid getting too familiar and stick with using his title.  Not that I really address him much for the rest of the night, but I try to at least think of him this way.  I slip-up a little as the evening wears on.

          We have a family style dinner and when the conversation turns towards me, I shy away.  I’ve been given pre-prepared answers to use, and I can resort to them if I have to, but I just hate the feeling that I’m lying to this very nice family.  Their concern for me is obvious and, eventually I’m simply unable to resist answering a few questions.  They’ve been patient and I don’t want to be difficult. 

          Dr. Cullen asks me if I’ve had an opportunity to think any more about extracurricular activities now that I’ve been in classes for a week.  All three Cullens are staring at me; Esme and Edward, each with their very different but equally green eyes, and Carlisle with his piercing blue. 

          “I’m still trying to get caught up academically,” I say.  “I haven’t thought about it much.”

          “Well, were you involved with any activities at your old high school?”

          “Not really,” I answer, shaking my head and looking down at my plate.  I can’t tell them that public schools aren’t allowed to offer my sport to students. 

          “What about anything you ever wanted to try, but didn’t?”

          His son clears his throat.  “Dad...”

          “What?”

          “You’re pushing her, dear,” Esme says with a soft smile. 

          I blush profusely and bite my lip.

          “I’m sorry, Anna Bella.  I just don’t want you to miss out on anything because we didn’t ask if you were interested or offer you support.  I know we keep telling you if you need anything to let us know, but I also know you might just be too shy or scared to do so.  Am I right?” Carlisle asks. 

          I meet his eyes and nod.  He winks at me. 

          “Sorry if I’m pestering you.”

          “You’re not,” I say quickly.

          “Sure he is,” Edward says, smiling amusedly.  The brilliance of it almost takes my breath away, and I have to remind myself yet again that he’s my teacher-slash-foster-brother.

          “You know...” Esme says, drawing our attention.  “When I was in high school, the things I was interested in doing weren’t usually team sports.  Sometimes they had a club though.  What sorts of clubs do they have these days, Edward?” she inquires. 

          He scrunches up his face in concentration for a moment.  I’m openly gawking at him again, but look down before he can see.

          “A lot of the kids are involved in the student government, and its various service related activities.  Then there is Foreign Language Club.  Drama.  Debate.  I think there is a science club this year, and math club, of course.  Mr. Varner sponsors the Future Business Leaders of America –”

          “Wait,” I say, surprising even myself.  “There’s a math club?” I ask, looking up.

          His eyes widen a bit.  “Yes... Why?  Would you be interested in joining?” 

           “No, no,” I say.  “I just...”  I look back down at my plate.  “Um, that means there are kids who are good at math.  And like it?  Right?”

          A smooth chuckle sends a feeling of warmth over me and I risk meeting his eyes when he answers with a simple _yes._

          “Do they do tutoring?”     

          “You want help with your math?” Mr. Cullen asks.

          “Yes,” I say.  I hesitate for a moment and then just go ahead and lay it out there.  “I don’t really care so much about the grade I get, but I spent two hours on the assignment you gave us yesterday and I just can’t remember ever learning that stuff before.  So it’s taking me forever to get through it and I’m frustrated.”

          Edward.  _No,_ Mr. Cullen pushes his plate aside and smiles.  “Go get your books.”

          I blanch.  “Wh- What?”

          “Go get your stuff.  I’ll help you.  I’m here.  It is my job.”

          “Oh,” I say and look away.  It’s his _job_. Of course, I forgot he feels obligated.  It hurts, so I refuse like a petulant child.  I might as well own my role, after all. 

          “You don’t have to do that,” I say.  “It’s your day off.  Just enjoy your evening with your parents.”

          I start to get up and then remember to ask, “May I be excused, please?”

          Esme looks between me and her son.  “Yes... But I think you should let Edward help you if you’re having trouble with your homework.”

          “He doesn’t have to,” I say.  “But thank you.  And thank you for din-”

          “I want to,” his low, smooth voice stops me.  I glance at him and he raises an eyebrow.  “Bella, I want to help you,” he repeats.  “If you’ll let me.”

          I swallow.  “Okay.”

          An hour later, we’ve gone back to the beginning of the book.  Mr. Cullen has long ago given up trying to refresh my memory and is just starting over with me.  He mutters about sending a strongly worded email to the math faculty at my former high school and then laughs when I tell him not to bother because, if they’re that bad, they might not be able to read it. 

          Slowly it all comes back to me.  By chapter five, something just clicks into place and I almost squeal with glee.  Several practice problems later, I’m laughing because Edward tells a cheesy math joke and I actually get it. 

           “Oh, my gosh!” I giggle.  “I remember hearing that back in Phoee–” 

          My voice falls off abruptly when I realize what I was about to say. 

          “Fee?” Edward asks, curiously.

          “Um... back in Mr. Phoenix’s class.  At my old school. We just called him by his last name.  No Mister.  Just Phoenix,” I lie.

          The smile fades from his face and his eyes show comprehension.  I think he knows I’m lying and I start to panic until I hear his soft, compassionate tone of voice.

          “It’s hard to talk about your life... _before_.  Then, when you don’t want to talk about it, it just comes out.” 

          I breathe a small sigh of relief that he doesn’t push the Phoenix thing and just agree with him.  “Yeah.” 

          “It does get easier in time.”

          “Maybe.”

          He touches my hand with his pinky finger and it’s immediately soothing.  “Do you want to talk about it now?”

          I shake my head reflexively, but then my heart clenches and I feel the emptiness of every single, solitary minute of the last two months.  Without meaning to, I begin nodding my head _yes_ instead.

          His hand covers mine briefly.  “Take as long as you need,” he says. 

          After what feels like an eternity, I begin with the most basic thing.  “I miss my mom,” I say, letting it hang there and feeling the emptiness of her absence.  The tears break loose along with a flood of words.

          “I miss our house.  I miss the way it smelled like her, or like the latest culinary masterpiece she had underway.  She was an amazing cook.”  I sigh and wipe some of the tears, but it’s no use.  “I miss her smile and her laugh.  I miss her making me laugh.  I feel like I haven’t really laughed in an eternity.  And I miss my dad,” I pause again.  The tears for my father are constant streams and I’m barely able to keep my voice from breaking. 

          “I miss him so much.  He was my everything.  My coach, my best friend, my hero.  And just my dad,” I say, shrugging as my voice falls to a raspy whisper.  “He gave the best hugs.”

          Edward says nothing, but I notice that he’s now holding one of my hands in his.  It’s such a simple gesture, but I think I enjoy it more than I should.  I try to smile at him through the tears. 

          He smiles back softly.  “I know it’s not the same, but Esme gives pretty good hugs.”

          I nod and glance towards the living room where she was no doubt waiting for us to finish our lesson.  “She does, but my dad’s arms were like coming home.  I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like that again.”

          “You might.  Someday”

          I sniffle and look at our hands clasped together.  “Maybe,” I whisper. 

          I wonder if Edward has followed my train of thought and knows what I’m thinking, because he releases my hand and sets it gently back on the table.  He closes my math book and stacks our practice sheets neatly on top. 

          “I still have to finish my assignment,” I say, casually.

          He nods.  “I know, but I think that’s enough for tonight.  I’ll come by tomorrow to help you through the last of it.”

          “You don’t have to do tha– ”

          “I want to,” he says, stopping me.  He chuckles and puts his hand on top of mine again.  “And yeah... it’s my job and I’m your teacher and all...  But I think I crossed out of teacher mode and into big brother mode or something a while ago.  Don’t you?” 

          He seems to want to demonstrate this by rubbing his thumb back and forth over my knuckles, but it feels anything except brotherly to me.  The odd expression on his face makes me think he realizes this as well, if a moment too late.

          “Yeah, probably,” I say, pulling my hand from his politely and trying to play it off like I don’t have ten-thousand butterflies in my stomach. 

          I start to feel guilty as he escapes to go say goodnight to his parents.  Not only have I monopolized Esme and Carlisle’s time with their son tonight, but I opened up to him and talked about my past where I haven’t been able to do that with them.  To top it all off, there is a palpable energy between me and Edward.  If he’s feeling half of what I do, all while thinking I’m just seventeen, the poor guy’s undoubtedly having some kind of internal crisis of the conscience.  At least, I assume that’s the case.  Call it a gut instinct, but I know now that whatever Edward Cullen is, a pedophile he is not.

~(~)~

          By the following week, I’m mostly caught up in trigonometry.  Mr. Cullen (as I’ve forced myself to think of him) came over as promised on Sunday and then again on Wednesday night to tutor me.  We both seemed to be much more conscious of our interactions after our initial study session.  He is more the teacher and less the big brother or confidant that he was that first night.  I can handle that because my feelings for him are still there, utterly confusing and entirely inappropriate.  I need the boundary line drawn plainly in the sand so I don’t end up costing him his job or making either of us appear incestuous.

          A month later, I’ve come to have a fairly easy relationship with Mr. Cullen in and out of school.  With my ridiculous crush pushed aside, he’s usually Edward at home and our friendship has actually helped me relate better to Carlisle and Esme.  I’m still keeping my distance to a certain extent, but am able to interact with them more naturally.  I feel a little more like myself, and I can manage to talk about my parents in small doses. 

          Of course, I still can’t allow any discussion about details of my former life.  I stick to what’s written about my alias in the Social Services file they have on me and never deviate.  I try to remain diligent as well, knowing that if I get too relaxed, I’ll make small slips.  I could never live with myself if I placed any of us at risk like that, so I do my best to be who they think I am.  I work hard to be seventeen-year-old Anna Bella Dwyer.

           Some days are easier than others.  Dealing with petty high school crap when you’re hiding from one of the world’s most dangerous crime families gets under your skin.  And as much as I try to stay above it all, I have to co-exist with these kids day in and day out.  So, over time I’ve made a few friends; mostly girls who just needed someone to be kind to them. 

          One particularly difficult day in early March, one of those girls was targeted by a boy who’d made a bet that he could get her to offer him oral sex on school grounds.  He even bragged he could convince her to let him videotape it.  It was common knowledge among our peers that she had a crush on him, so she was elated when he started paying attention to her.  Naturally, it destroyed her when she found out it was all a horrible prank.

          The fact that people could actually treat other human beings so callously made me completely irate.  After driving poor Whitney home and listening to her cry the whole way, I became so mad that I was literally ready to shoot something.  I know that would sound extreme to anyone who didn’t know I’m an internationally ranked marksmen, but I am.  Or I was a few months ago.  Back in those days, it wasn’t uncommon for me to work out some of life’s frustrations while I was at the range.  Charlie taught me that shooting, like any sport, had therapeutic benefits when you took it seriously.  I’d been lectured early on to never wield a gun while angry or upset, but experience taught me that if there was something on my mind, I usually felt better after a few hours honing my skills with a rifle or one of my dad’s pistols. 

          Unfortunately, that isn’t an option anymore.  Which means that my current bad day has now been added to the ever growing frustration I’ve been feeling recently; a toxic cocktail of missing my parents, my home, my independence and my sport.  As I drive towards the Cullens large and secluded house on an otherwise normal Friday afternoon, it’s all too much.  I’m one pissed off woman. 

          Until I see Deputy Marshal Whitlock replacing the mailbox at the end of his driveway. 

           I almost stop the car and roll down the window when I drive past him, but a slight shake of his head tells me not to.  I’m surprised that I’d forgotten he told me to watch for the new mailbox.  It’s a signal.  A sign that means he’ll be leaving soon. 

          I make the turn into the Cullen’s driveway and continue up the long path, slower than usual due to my pounding heart and overwhelmed mind.  I feel both relieved and alarmed that this day has come.  Knowing I’ll be on my own in the near future tells me two things: First, I am safe here for now. And second, I probably won’t be going anywhere for a while. 

          It doesn’t take me but a moment to realize that it’s the second half of that equation that has me distressed.  Knowing I’ll have to keep up with the lies?  With the charade that’s been weighing on me a little more each day?  I’m not sure how much longer I can do it without cracking. 

          When my phone beeps, I can guess immediately who it is.  Taking a deep breath, I slow the car to a stop along the winding drive and look at the message.   

 _I need you to get away for a few hours tonight._  
Msg me if you need help making it happen.  
Port Angeles.  7pm.  Meet outside the movie theater.

 

~(~)~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -From Chapter 2-
> 
> My phone beeps, and I’m not surprised. I look at the message as soon as I pull into the driveway. 
> 
> _I need you to get away for a few hours tonight._  
>  Msg me if you need help making it happen.  
> Port Angeles. 7pm. Meet outside the Movie Theater. 

~(~)~

 

          I frown a little at the thought of the subterfuge involved in Deputy Whitlock’s request, but immediately know what my cover story will be.  It’s perfect really, and I have to wonder if he was listening in on my day at school today.  It’s not entirely impossible.  Who knows what kind of toys and tricks people in his line of work have up their sleeve?  It takes me only a moment to text him back and, as soon as he agrees, I head inside to run my plan by Esme. 

          When I ask her about going to the movies in Port Angeles with a few kids from school, she is thrilled by the prospect of me doing something normal with my peers for once.  I expected her to be, but it only increases my guilt.  She immediately says yes to my request and doesn’t question it when I tell her I’d like to drive myself in case plans change or any one going misbehaves.  She never doubts my story.  She simply smiles approvingly.  Again, the guilt eats at me.  I hate lying to Esme, but it’s a necessity in this case.  The only thing I can do is say yet another silent prayer that she won’t hate me when this is all over.

          Almost as soon as I have permission, I leave for Port Angeles.  Being twenty-three and single, I’ve long been used to doing as I pleased with my free time.  Having to pretend to be a minor for the last two months has been wearing on me, and I am craving my freedom.  I keep that to myself however, and just tell Esme I want to go to the book store instead.  Of course I do stop by the book shop and browse, but I also happen to grab a very large, very caffeinated coffee drink and take a walk out to the waterfront.  I even wander along the more touristy spots on my way back and still arrive at the theater ten minutes before I’m supposed to. 

          I’m glad to see Deputy Whitlock waiting for me outside.  He’s leaning against his black dodge pick-up and looking every bit the local in his Timberland work boots, dark wash jeans and vintage t-shirt layered under a flannel.   

          “Enjoy your evening out?” he asks when I approach him.  He opens the passenger’s side door for me and gestures for me to get inside.

          “Yeah, were you following me?”

          “Of course,” he says, as if he’s offended I would think otherwise. 

          “We’re not staying here?” I ask while I climb in the truck. 

          He shakes his head, but doesn’t answer until he’s in the driver’s seat. 

          “It’s Friday night.  There are too many people from Forks here to avoid being seen together.  But, lucky for us, I know a place we can go.” 

          “Okay,” I say quietly, looking around as we drive speedily away from Port Angeles. If this man hadn’t worked so hard to keep me alive up to this point, I might be a little afraid.

          “Bella?” he says once we’re on our way.  I glance over at him to let him know I’m listening.  “What’s wrong?  You’re too quiet, even for you.”

          I sigh and feel my cheeks heat a bit.  “Yeah, I guess I’m a little nervous.”

          “About what?”

          “About the mailbox, and about where we’re going.  Not that I don’t trust you, but the last time you told me to get in a car without me knowing where we were headed, it was because some Romanians were trying to kill me.”

          He chuckles.  “I didn’t think about it like that.  No need to worry though.  I just wanted you to be able to cut loose for an hour or two before I leave town and you have to go back to everyone here thinking you’re seventeen.”

           I huff a laugh.  “Yeah, well, you picked a good day then.  Being seventeen sucks sometimes.  High school sucks.”

          “I know.  You’re doing really well though.”

          “Thanks.  I think,” I say, wondering if it’s a good thing I’m so good at pretending to be a teenager in high school.  After a couple months of doing it, it makes me wonder if I was ever really a grown-up to begin with.  

          “You seem to be getting on well with the Cullens.  Are you comfortable staying there?”

          “Do I have a choice?” I snort, but then smile and shake my head.  “No, the Cullens are great.  I wish I could have known them under different circumstances.”

          “I feel the same way about you, kiddo,” he says. “So does Deputy Brandon.  She sends her love, by the way. She wanted to come see you, but she’s testifying herself in another case this week.”

          “Tell her I said hello.”

          “I will.”

          “So... where is this place you know?” I ask as we turn east and head away from Port Angeles. 

          “Just up the road a bit.  It’s a bar in the outskirts of Sequim.  We’re going to make a quick stop somewhere else first though.”

          I raise an eyebrow.  “A bar?”

          He grins and explains.  “The owner is former military, Special Forces.  He also worked for the FBI for a while before eventually becoming a U.S. Marshal.”

          “Oh.  That’s... neat.”

          Deputy Whitlock chuckles again.  “I want you to meet him.  He’s trustworthy.  Retired nowadays, but with connections.  And if you get into any trouble, he’ll be closer to you than we are.”

          “Oh,” I say again, understanding tonight isn’t just about cutting loose.   

          “Don’t worry.  You won’t you need him.  And you won’t need this, either,” he says, pulling a thick manila envelope from under his seat.  “But it’s good to have both, just in case.”

          I look at it as if it might bite me.  “What is this?”

          “It’s your emergency kit.”

          I feel myself pale a little.  “Emergency kit?”

          “Like I said, you won’t need it.  But if I’m wrong –moreover, if Alice is wrong –and she never is,” he adds with a wink.  “But if we’re wrong and you have to run, that envelope has everything you need to get the hell out of Dodge.  New ID, passport, credit card, cash, cell phone and instructions.”

          “Wow...”

          “After tonight, don’t carry it with you.  Put it in the duffle bag we gave you when we brought you to Washington.  In the bottom is one of those plastic covered cardboard liners, right?”

          “Uh... I think so.”

          “It should be there.  Alice would have made sure.  Just slide this envelope inside that liner, zip the bag back up and put it back in your closet.  Like I said, you won’t need it.”

          I shake my head.  “You keep saying that.”

          “I don’t want you to worry.”

          “Then stop telling me not to worry.”

          He grins at me, but sees I’m serious. 

          “Bella, look, I wouldn’t be leaving you here if your placement wasn’t secure.  The agency takes witness safety very seriously, and we’ve never lost anyone that did as they were told.  Not only that, but you won’t be entirely without protection.”

          “How so?” I ask.

          “Well, did Dr. or Mrs. Cullen mention that their son Emmett is moving closer to home in a couple weeks?”

          “Uh... yeah, they mentioned it.  I met him a few weekends ago.”

          “Well, he’s a police officer as you know, but he’s also a friend of Alice’s.”

          “You’re kidding. Is that how...?”

          He nods.  “It is.  A few years ago when he was a rookie with Seattle PD, he got assigned to guard the hospital door of one of our less-cooperative witnesses.  Emmett was 100% business about it.  So serious all the time.”  Jasper smiles widely and glances at me.  “But you know how Alice is.  She messed with him until he cracked a smile.  They struck up a friendship.”

          “So how did I end up with his parents?”

          “Protection details like that can get boring.  I guess the guy’s a talker once you get him going.  He told Alice his whole life story and what-not.  They stayed in touch and when we met you, she contacted him to see if he thought his parents would be willing to take on another foster child.  He presented the idea to them.”

          I gasp.  “Does that mean?  Does Emmett know about me?  He knows who I really am?”

          “Not entirely.  He knows you’re a federal witness, and I believe he’s guessed that your identity is an alias, but we never confirmed that one way or the other.”

          “Holy Cow.” 

          My head is so full of new information that I don’t even notice we’ve stopped somewhere until I hear the click of Deputy Whitlock’s seatbelt. 

          “You okay over there, Bella?”

          I nod absently and unbuckle my own safety belt.  “So the Cullens know that I’m hiding?” I ask.  “They know I’m not who I say I am.”

          “No, Emmett thinks he knows, but the rest of the Cullens believe you’re Anna Bella Dwyer.  They believe that the state of Washington has you in protective custody so long as your parents’ murder goes unsolved.   Or until your supposed eighteenth birthday, whichever comes first.”

          “Oh...”

          “Come on, get out,” Deputy Whitlock says after a moment. “I have a surprise for you.”

          I get out of the truck and see that we’re stopped at the end of a dirt road.   It’s surrounded by trees on every side but one, where there’s a small field.  I turn to find Deputy Whitlock standing at the back of his pick-up with the tailgate open, motioning me over.  His truck has one of those bed-covers on it, and he opens it to reveal what appear to be two rifle cases sitting in the back of his truck.  I gasp and look up at him.  He nods towards the field.

          “Care to shoot a round or two?” he asks. 

          My eyes flood with tears and my heart leaps.  I think for a moment that he can’t be serious, but then if he is, I want to kiss him.   It’s only when I hear his highly amused answer that I realize I’ve said this out loud. 

          “Yes, I’m serious, but I think Alice may take issue with the kissing part.”

          I don’t even blush, I just throw my arms around his neck and hug him like he’s just given me the world.  Because for a moment it feels like he has. 

          “Thank you.  Thank you so much, Deputy Whitlock.”

          “You’re welcome,” he says, hugging me back lightly before putting me down.  “And it’s Jasper.  You can call me Jasper when it’s just us.  Okay?”

          “Okay, Jasper,” I repeat, smiling through my tears. 

          Several rounds of ammo later, I’m feeling like myself for the first time in months.  It’s dark outside, but Jasper has some nice optics with tritium illuminated sights, making it no problem to see the targets that he stapled to a tree at the end of the field. He apparently scoped this location out earlier in the week and informs me that there’s a small rise of earth behind the trees so if we miss the targets, the bullets won’t go far.  When I asked him if he thinks anyone will hear us and call the authorities, he tells me there are no houses or businesses for miles, but he has his badge just in case. 

          As we shoot, I find that I’m a little rusty, but it comes back to me quickly.  I get a kick out impressing Jasper by still being able to at least hit the bulls-eye, and he gets a kick out of trying to goad me into a contest.  We end up going for the best out of ten rounds in the prone position.  It’s not my event at all and he actually out shoots me.  We spend the rest of the time talking about his background and how he learned to shoot when he was a kid growing up in Texas.  I’m not surprised to learn his grandfather had a cattle ranch and they used to shoot at the coyotes to keep them at bay.  I can see it.  He looks more at home in his jeans and flannel than he does in the suit he wore when I first met him.

          We swap rifles, and I tell him about my dad and how he taught me to shoot in order to give me a solid respect for firearms.  We talk about my competitive days, national championships and the Olympic trials.  I tell him about all the different events I’ve tried over the years, but how I found my niche with the air rifle and three-position events.  I find myself getting lost in the memories of Beijing in 2008 and how I failed to medal in one of my events, but took home the gold in the other.  He tells me he’d love to see my medal someday.  I tell him I hope to see it again someday as well. 

          “You know, I’m supposed to be training for the next Olympics right now.  I really wanted to go to London.  So did my mom.”

          Jasper sighs as we pack-up.  “I’m sure she did.  I’m sorry, kiddo.”

          “Who you callin’ kiddo, o _ld man_?” I joke, making an attempt to cover the tears threatening my eyes.  

          “Who you callin’ old man?” Jasper teases back. 

          I laugh because he’s closer to forty than he is thirty, but, like me, he looks much younger than he actually is.  In my opinion, he doesn’t appear to be any older than Edward does at twenty-nine.  Thinking of Edward makes me wonder about something and soon as we get back in the truck to return to town, I ask Jasper.

          “Hey, I have a question.”

          “What is it?” he says easily.

          “Do I really look like I’m just a teenager?  I mean, if you didn’t already know I was in my twenties, what would you think?”

          Jasper glances at me from the corner of his eye.   “Honestly?”

          I nod.

          “Just looking at you, I’d definitely think you weren’t old enough to buy your own liquor yet.  Eighteen, nineteen maybe?  But...” he adds.  “When you speak, and with the way you carry yourself?  If I were to sit down and talk to you I’d think you were older.” 

          I sigh.  “I figured as much.”

          “You don’t look much like a child when you wield a gun though. Not at all,” he laughs.

          I smile.  “My mom started saying that when I was thirteen.  She also used to say I was more mature at thirteen than she was at thirty though.”

           “I’m just guessin’ that both of those things probably still ring true.”

          I smile, but spend the rest of the drive thinking about my parents and Edward.  I think about what I’d like to do when, and if, I get my life back.  If I testify this summer and get to go free, I want to compete again.

          I wonder what Edward would think of me being a competitive shooter.  Would he approve?  My guess is he might, considering he’s former military.  Some people are against any use of firearms outside of the military or law enforcement, and that’s okay.  I’ve learned that the world is full of people who think we’d all be better off without firearms. 

          In a utopian society, I would have to agree.  And maybe in that same scenario my parents would still be alive.  But this isn’t a utopia and in the real world, criminals will always get their hands on illegal weapons.  If we hadn’t had our own legal firearm at home that night, I likely wouldn’t be sitting here today.  But I am.  My parents aren’t.  But I am. 

          The thought makes my chest ache and I don’t quite know whether I can be happy about that fact.     

          When we arrive at the bar, a little neighborhood joint called Garrett’s, my high from getting to shoot again is pretty much gone. Jasper understands when I tell him that it was wonderful, but also brought back a flood of memories, and a whole lot of “what-if”s.  

          “When do you have to be back at the Cullens?” he asks before we get out of the truck to go into the bar he wanted to take me to.

          “I’m good until 11:30,” I answer.  “I have to call if I’m going to be any later than that.”

          “So as long as you call, you can be out until when?”

          “I don’t know.  Esme didn’t really say.”

          “Well, we’ll just have to make sure you give her a call and tell you’ll be a little late.  How about we get you a drink and some comfort food?”

          “I can’t,” I complain.  “Anna Bella is only seventeen, remember?”

          “Ah, yes,” Jasper says, nodding.  “Fortunately, I know the owner.  And if we have to we’ll grab your new ID out of that envelope over there.”

          “Deputy Marshal Whitlock,” I say, feigning shock. “Are you suggesting I use my emergency identification for a non-emergency?”

          He grins.  “Don’t tell. It’s just for tonight.  And just one drink.”

          I giggle and Jasper opens the door. 

          Twenty-five minutes later, we’re sitting in booth in the far corner.  I’ve met the owner, had a really good meal, a lovely microbrew, and am so very thankful that Jasper brought me out tonight.  I feel recharged and refreshed, and hopefully ready to face the next few months until the trial.  I’m even smiling and laughing genuinely for the first time in a while.  Of course that could also be the microbrew, but I’m pretty sure it’s all thanks to the man who’s sitting across from me.  He’s been with me since the day after my parents died and has never let me down.  I put my hand out and grasp his, feeling a little braver than usual thanks to the beer.

          “You’re a very good man, Jasper Whitlock,” I say, smiling. “Thank you for tonight.  I’ve had a really wonderful time getting to know you.”

          “Me too, sugar,” he drawls as he squeezes my hand lightly.  “You are one special young woman.  I only wish we hadn’t met like we did.”

          I smile and swallow the emotion his words bring.  “Me too,” I say softly.

          He leans back and tips his chin, finishing his beer while our hands remain intertwined.  It’s strictly platonic, but still very reassuring.   I’m contemplating whether or not to order another beer when Jasper sits bolt upright, rips his hand out of mine, and grabs my nearly empty bottle away from me.   

          “What the hell?” I say, confused.

          Before he can answer I hear a furious and all too familiar voice coming from behind me. 

          “That’s exactly what I’d like to know.” 

          My eyes close momentarily in disbelief; meanwhile my heart starts pounding out of my chest.  I’d know the velvet undertones to that voice anywhere, and find myself wondering how Jasper missed seeing him come in. 

          Edward steps in front of our table, arms crossed menacingly over his chest.

          "Care to explain to me what in God's name you think you're doing here, Anna Bella?"

          His voice is too low, too controlled. His body is rigid and from the corner of my eye, I can tell his hands are clenched into fists. I don't dare look at his face because I know it will be beyond harsh.

          "Well..." he prods when I don't answer.

          Jasper moves to stand.

          "Don't!" Edward snaps, pointing a finger in Jasper's face. "Just. stay. there."

          Jasper sits back and puts his hands up. He takes a deep breath and looks Edward over from head to toe. I'm a little afraid that he's planning how to take him down in a single punch, and I'm pretty sure he can do it too.

          "Care to join us?" Jasper asks calmly when he's done looking Edward over.

          "Join you? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea–?" He stops abruptly and leans over the table, his hands clenching the edge until his knuckles are white. "Who the hell are you?"

          "I'm Jasper Whitlock, and you are?" Jasper answers, clearly amused by Edward's display.

          I gasp and flinch as Edward's fist hits the table. "I'm her brother!" he shouts. His words earn another gasp from me and he turns his head towards me slightly, but does not meet my eyes.

          I feel a little sick all of a sudden. Edward's familial declaration is ringing loudly in my ears. It hurts. I hate that he sees himself in that role and realize quite suddenly that I am far, far from being over my crush.

          Jasper meets my gaze and lets out an exasperated sigh.

          "Look," he says, addressing Edward now with authority. "We both know Bella doesn't have a brother, so why don't you do everyone here a favor and sit down?"

          Edward narrows his eyes and stares at Jasper. Eventually, he looks back at me and my stomach lurches at his expression. There's anger, disappointment, concern, and something else I can't quite identify there. I feel tears threatening and lower my gaze to the table in front of me. Edward says something else to Jasper and Jasper answers him while I fight for control.

          How did this day go from so bad, to so good, and then right back around to bad again?

          A waitress walks by, staring openly at Edward and Jasper, then glancing curiously at me. The unwanted attention brings me back to reality and I feel the need to contain the situation.

          "Edward, please," I whisper. "Please, sit down."

          He stops suddenly at my tone, looking at me in what I think is concern, or confusion.

          "You're making a scene," I explain. "And whatever you think is going on, I assure you it's not."

          He narrows his eyes and laughs bitterly, crossing his arms back over his sculpted chest.

          "Oh, is that right? So, I didn't see you sitting here with a beer in front of you while holding hands with some older man?"

          I blush and look down. He sounds more jealous than disapproving, and I feel my stomach give another funny lurch and then twist in a way that's altogether nauseating.

          Jasper clears his throat. "Listen, Edward," he begins. "Bella and I go back a ways and I have to agree with her completely. You've misunderstood the situation. Now, why don't you sit down before you say something else less than considerate to her and I have to punch you in the face for being disrespectful."

          Edward blanches a little and looks at me. He goes from angry to worried in less than a second.

          "You go back _a ways?_ You're not supposed to talk to anyone you knew from before," he says in a rush.

          I'm confused for a moment and then remember the little bit that Esme told him about me, so I explain the best that I can.

          "We ran into each other at the movie theater in Port Angeles. I... He..." I take a deep breath and try to think of what else I can say without saying too much.

          Jasper puts a hand on mine and gives it a quick squeeze. Edward almost has another conniption fit, but Jasper pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and unexpectedly reveals his badge.

          "Like I said, why don't you sit down for a minute?" he suggests.

          Edward looks between us for a moment, studies Jasper's badge, and then looks back between us. His eyes finally rest on me. "Bella?"

          "Sit down," I say, scooting over.

          There's no thrill at the feeling of Edward's thigh touching mine when he slides in the booth next to me. I feel somewhat numb. I'm also panicked at the same time. I have no idea what Jasper is about to tell Edward. I don't know if it means that I'll have to be moved somewhere else now. Or if the Cullens won't want me anymore.

          "What's going on?" Edward asks when he's seated.

          "Well, let's start with the basics. You're Edward Cullen, right? Adopted son of Esme and Carlisle Cullen. Brother to Emmett and Victoria, also adopted. You spent four years on active duty in the Navy, after which you completed your Bachelor's degree at Seattle University while still serving as a reservist. You moved back to Forks almost two years ago, taking a position at your old high school to be closer to your parents. You teach math, even though your degree is in science. You're good at math because you also happen to be a piano prodigy. Of course, that last little detail is strictly the opinion of your mother."

          Edward sits stunned silent. Jasper chuckles quietly and takes his badge back.

          "As you see on the badge, my name is Jasper Whitlock and I'm a United States Marshal. I guess you could say I'm involved with Bella's case. I asked her here tonight to go over some things she needed to know."

          "Like what?" Edward asks, finding his voice.

          "I can't tell you that. Neither can she. I can tell you that we placed her with your parents for a reason and it was because we believed she'd be safe with them. She'll continue to be safe with them as long as you don't know too much, or ask too many questions of her."

          Edward blinks again and his mouth opens and closes once. He looks at me and then back to Jasper. "How do I know you're who you say you are? No offense or anything, but I have a hard time believing that any law enforcement officer would ask a minor to meet him at a bar to discuss her case over a couple of drinks. Why weren't my parents notified? Or her case worker?"

          Jasper smiles, and I can't help but notice it's a little reminiscent of Edward's smirk.

          "Her case worker knows I'm here, and as for bringing her to a bar? Well, we couldn't very well have had this discussion just anywhere. I wanted to have some anonymity for both of us."

          "And the beer I saw her with?" Edward asks, an eyebrow curved in challenge.

          Jasper shrugs. "She's had a hell of time over the last few months."

          "Not acceptable," Edward says, his voice dark. "She's seventeen."

          Jasper nods. "So it would seem."

          Edward's eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"

          "It means you should take it easy on her. You do not know, nor can you be made aware of, everything that's going on. Not if you want her to continue living under the care of your family in Forks. Now, I'll move her if I have to, but I don't think any of us want that. Am I right?"

          Edward's face becomes indecipherable. He and Jasper stare each other down while I watch on. I'm panicking slightly, wondering if at the end of this I'll have to be hidden away again. Maybe this time to some federal safe house that's no better than a prison. By the time either one of the men at the table move again, I'm biting into my lip so hard it's painful.

          "No," Edward says finally. "No, none of us want that. She's doing well where she is. We can keep an eye out for her. It's a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and all that."

          Jasper nods. "Good. So we have an understanding then?"

          Edward sighs and looks at me. "This is your last chance to tell me whether or not he's some crazed lunatic who was about to kidnap you."

          "He's not," I answer immediately.

          "And you trust him?"

          "With my life."

          Edward frowns, but turns back to Jasper. "Then we have an understanding. On one condition," he amends.

          “Which is?"

          "No more of this sneaking off and not telling anyone where she's going. If you need to meet with her again, she's to tell someone and call when she gets there. If there's a reason you put her with us, let us do our part. We can't keep her safe if you keep us in the dark."

          Jasper smiles wryly. " _If_ I need to meet with her again, an appropriate excuse will be given, but I can't negotiate how I do my job. You either deal with this and keep your mouth shut, or she disappears."

          Edward goes still as he considers Jasper's words. After a long moment, I see his Adam's apple bob.

          "Fine," he says weakly.

          “Good,” Jasper says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

          Edward turns and looks at me for a long moment before shaking his head slightly and looking back across the table. 

          “Can I assume from your posture when I walked in here a few minutes ago that you two were already finished with your official conversation?” Edward asks, his voice strained.

          Jasper frowns for a moment and glances at me.  I nod, telling him that I’m okay if he is. 

          He glances back at Edward.  “Yeah.  We were done.”

          “Then, if you don’t mind, I’m taking her home,” Edward says quickly.

          “If you think that’s best,” Jasper answers, looking slightly amused again.

          “I do,” Edward says, narrowing his eyes at Jasper ever so slightly. 

          When we stand from the table, Edward wraps his long fingers around one of my biceps.  His hold is gentle, but the message is strong.  He’s not letting me go.  His stance is decidedly protective as we exit Garrett’s, and it causes emotion to bubble up in me.  We stop just outside the door so I can say goodbye to Deputy Whitlock.

          “Bye, Jasper.  Thanks for everything.  I’ll... well, I won’t look forward to hearing from you exactly, but...” I sigh.  “You know what I mean.”

          He smiles and bobs his head.  “Yeah, I know.  Me too.  You take care, kiddo.”

          I smile through misty eyes.  “You too.”

          “Always,” he grins and his dimples show.  He looks back to Edward and lifts his chin.  “If you can give me just a second, her jacket’s in my vehicle.   Let me get it for her.”

          Edward’s grip tightens on my arm.  He looks down at me sharply.  “You got in a car with him?”

          I shrug off his hand.  “It was his truck, actually.”

          “Bella!  Do you have any sense of self-preservation?! Nobody even knew you were with this guy.”

          Anger flares.   It’s my own this time.  

          “He’s not just some random guy, Edward!”

          I realize I’ve just used his given name to his face for the first time ever when his eyes widen in shock. Jasper leaves to go get my coat, but not before looking between the two of us curiously.  When he gets back, he glances between the two of us for a moment before handing me my jacket.  It’s folded up carefully. I remember the manila envelope and realize it must be wrapped inside.

          “Thank you,” I say, pulling it carefully against my chest.

          “Do you remember everything we talked about?” Jasper asks.

          “Yeah.”

          “Good.  Don’t forget.”

          “I won’t,” I answer.

          He smiles and waves me off as I follow Edward to his car.  I say nothing and just let the man stew while we drive. I’m stewing too.  There’s nothing at all I can do to make the situation any better, which is why I am so upset.  I hate being treated this way, but I know I’ll have to take whatever punishment the Cullens give me for lying and going out with Jasper.  It’s just a part of the lie that’s supposed to be keeping me alive.

          When we get to Port Angeles, Edward keeps driving past the movie theater.  I protest and ask him where he’s going, but he doesn’t answer me.

          “Edward?  The Volvo is at the theater.”

          He doesn’t even look at me.  “You’ve been drinking, Anna Bella.  If you think I’m letting you get behind the wheel of a car, you’ve got another thing coming.”

          I sigh.  He sounds like my mother –he’s just scolding me with the wrong name. 

          “How were you planning on getting home?” he demands after a minute.

          I don’t answer right away because I’m still mad, annoyed really.  I’m old enough to be able to have a beer with dinner and drive home.  But in Edward’s mind I’m not even close.  If I were seventeen I would see his point.  Instead I see his hands tighten and release on the steering wheel before he starts in on me again.

          “I can understand the fact that you were given idiotic instructions you felt obligated to follow.  I can understand that you went in that place with him for a good reason.  But, drinking? ” He runs his hands through his hair and pulls on it.  “Please, please, explain to me what was going through your head.” 

          I sigh.  “Deputy Whitlock is a good man.  He’d take a bullet for me, quite literally.  There’s no way he’d let me do something reckless like drinking and driving.”

          Edward scoffs and is quiet for a while.   

          “You’re seventeen,” he says, breaking the silence of the last few minutes.  “Whitlock’s gotta be what?  At least fifteen years older than you?”

          “Just about,” I answer, because that’s a pretty close guess if you factor in my real age.

          “What...” His voice falters a bit.  “Why were you were holding his hand?”

          I blush.  The question embarrasses me, despite there being a very simple explanation.  I sigh and find my words.

          “Jasper’s been a rock for me since this whole nightmare began.  He takes care of me.  Since my father died, he’s the only man I’ve had in my life who I could count on.  No matter what.”

          Edward turns his head to look at me and his face is impossible to describe.  It’s almost like I’ve hurt him with my words, but I can’t think too long on that.  Not even when he looks back to the road and sighs heavily.

          “Look, Jasper did something very nice for me tonight,” I try to explain.  “It was just a friendly gesture.”

          “It looked like more than that.”

          I frown because he sounds jealous, which confuses me further.  I have to ask myself why he would care, even as my heart pounds in my chest.

          “He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think?” I ask weakly.

          “Yeah, I do,” Edward nods, letting out a breath I think might be relief, or frustration, I can’t tell which.  “I’m just glad I was wrong.”

          “Why?” I ask.

          He shakes his head.  “Because now I don’t have to kill the guy.” 

          I smile and the corners of his mouth threaten to lift too.  I know he’s still not happy, but perhaps I’m forgiven for at least one of my indiscretions.

          Halfway home, my phone beeps. 

_I assume you’re being driven home for tonight_  
as your “brother” didn’t stop at the theater.  
I’m really sorry I didn’t see him in time.  
No excuse for that, but call us if you need us. 

          “Is that him?” Edward asks.

          “Yes,” I say. 

          Edward shakes his head and sighs.  “What have you gotten yourself into?”

          I stay silent, and he knows what I’m not saying.  “You can’t answer that.  I get it.”

          “Thank you,” I say quietly.

          “Is Bella even your real name?  Can you at least tell me that?”

          “I shouldn’t,” I answer.  After a moment, I sigh. “But... yes.  Bella is my real name.”

          “Good,” he says quietly.  “It suits you.”

          I look away and try desperately not to feel any thrill at those words.  I force myself to avoid thinking about what they mean while the trees blur outside the windows. 

          It takes us just over an hour to get back to the Cullens’ house, and I have failed miserably in not obsessing over Edward’s words.  I end up wishing more than once that I could have met him in another time and place.  He’s truly kind, and handsome, and smart.  I could so easily fall for him.  It would be effortless were the situation different.

          When we get out of the car, I’m not even thinking about what we’ll tell Esme and Carlisle.  For all I care at this point, Edward can tell them he caught me drinking and forced me to come home with him.  I don’t care about getting in trouble.  My mind is too full of budding feelings for my quote-un-quote foster brother.  I wonder if forcing myself to think of him in that light will help me stay sane. 

          “Bella?” Edward stops me before I start towards the house. 

          I turn, barely managing to meet his eyes.   “Yes?”

          “I just wanted to tell you, before we go inside, that...”  He sighs and runs his hand through that incredible hair of his.  “Well... you’re not alone anymore. Okay?  I know you’ve lost a lot.  You lost a whole life that has nothing to do with us, and we can only imagine how hard that’s been for you.  But you’re not alone.  And that guy?  Jasper Whitlock?  He’s not the only one you can count on.  He’s not the only one who wants to take care of you.”

          I stare at him in shock.  My mind is going a million miles an hour even before he moves closer to me.  Rain has begun to fall again.  It comes down like a mist and the tiny drops of water begin to accumulate on his hair and eyelashes.  It won’t be enough to cover the tears I feel threatening as he reaches out and runs the back of his fingers down my cheek. 

          _Foster-brother_ , I scream to myself.  _Foster-brother, foster-brother, foster-brother!_

          My eyes flutter closed and I inhale slowly, as his touch burns my skin.  It’s all I can do to stand in place and hold back my imminent breakdown.  I feel his body heat as he draws nearer and I know I’m going to lose it right here in front of him.  I tell myself to run, to get away from here, but before I can even process what’s happened I’m wrapped in Edward’s arms.

          _Home._ I lift my arms almost without thinking about it and sink further into his embrace. 

          _Home._   I can feel his heart beating against my cheek and it echoes the cadence of my own.  I think it might beat right out of my chest as he tightens his hold on me. 

          _Home._   The aching emptiness of the last several months begins to fade away and for the first time in months, I’m home. 

          I feel myself falling at this very moment.  I’m not sure right away if it’s happening physically or metaphorically, but I don’t worry about hitting the ground because I’m in Edward’s arms and his arms feel like home. 

          A soft hum breaks the spell and reality comes crashing down around me. 

          _This is wrong_. 

          I take a deep breath, and despite being completely overwhelmed by the scent and feel of Edward, I manage to pull myself away.  I’m shaking as he looks at me for a long moment.  His eyes are filled with an intensity that frightens me.  He seems partly terrified, partly awe-struck.  As he lifts his hand to my cheek again, I think briefly about surrendering to what my heart now obviously wants.  Instead, I turn my head away and step back. 

          “Don’t,” I whisper.  “Please.”  

          His arm fall to his side with alarming speed.

          “Bella, I’m...”

          “No.  I’m sorry.  It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have let you get so close.”

          He steps back.  “You didn’t let me.  It was my choice, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just wanted...” He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.  “You just need to know that we’re here for you.  You need to understand that there are people here you can count on.  People who love you.”

          My eyes snap to his, terror stricken.  Love?  _Love?_

          “Bella,” he begins again, obviously seeing my reaction. 

          “Don’t,” I cut him off, panicking.  _Don’t love me_ , I think.  “I can’t let you.”

          “Bel-”

          I don’t wait to hear anymore, afraid I won’t have the strength to deny him again.  Instead I turn and run, refusing to look back.

 

~(~)~


	4. Chapter 4

          I never did get in trouble for the night Edward brought me home from meeting Jasper at Garrett’s Bar.  That’s not to say that there weren’t lots of questions, but as Edward refused to tell Esme and Carlisle the whole story either, their concern soon shifted from what exactly had happened, to why it was we weren’t telling them about it.  They hadn’t witnessed the exchange that took place right outside their front door, but it was obvious enough to them that something serious had happened.  It wasn’t missed by anyone involved that I’d immediately gone back to keeping them all at arm’s length after that night. 

          Unfortunately, the change wasn’t easy on any of us. 

          The truth was that I had come to care for my supposed foster parents a great deal and they’d obviously grown to care for me.  I just couldn’t risk them learning too much about me and endangering themselves.  As it was, Edward knew too much.  He cared too much. 

          I realized only too late just how foolish I’d been with him.  The way I behaved around him was as though I actually wanted him to break through my walls.  I didn’t even try to keep him out.  Not the night he first helped me with my math, not when he asked about my real name, and certainly not when he put his arms around me. 

          But now I’m paying for it.  My heart broke a little the moment he let me go.  With the exception of the day I buried my parents, I’d never felt quite as bereft as I did when I fled from him. 

          But poor Edward...

          Obviously confused, obviously concerned, and believing I’m nothing more than a child?   I can well imagine how it would horrify him to know that he might very well hold this “child’s” heart.  So I cannot let him see that he does. 

          I do not look at him unless I have to.  I do not talk to him unless he demands it in class.  Outside of school, I avoid him at all costs.  Other than a single attempt to both apologize and talk some sense into me, he has taken to avoiding me as well.  I go to school every day and sleepwalk through the hours, keeping myself especially numb for fourth period math.  It’s a relief when Spring Break arrives and I know I won’t have to face him for an entire week. 

          With time off of school, I have to put some effort into discouraging Esme and Carlisle.  They try to reach out to me in so many ways, with both small gestures and grand.  I resist.  Carlisle grows so worried that by Friday I get a call from Deputy Brandon telling me that he’s called my “social worker” and asked for permission to take me to a grief counselor.  Alice thinks from everything he’s told her that it might be needed, but she settles for me talking to her several times over the next few days.  She listens to me, but eventually says that I have to try harder or there’s no point to me being here.  She offers to move me.  I can’t bring myself to tell her she should. 

          I rethink that decision in early April when Dr. Cullen is the physician on call all weekend at the hospital and Esme plans an over the top girls’ night for us.  She’s invited Victoria to come from Seattle for a visit as well, and I am unable to refuse without seeming like a complete ingrate.  That, and Alice’s warning rings loudly in my ears - _Try harder_. 

          Tori isn’t nearly as bad as I feared from everything Esme told me of her teen years.  She seems compassionate to my purported situation, but she’s not exceedingly patient.  By the time we’ve finished dinner and our first chick-flick, she’s taken to ignoring me.  I don’t blame her.  I’m not great company.  I tell Esme my mom used to force me to do girls’ night with her too and, even then, it wasn’t really my thing.  I do thank her for the effort though, and help her pick a nail polish color when we sit down to paint our nails.  She helps me pick one out as well, and I let her paint my toes for me. 

          I’m just gathering up all the used cotton balls in order to throw them away when Tori asks Esme a question.

          “So, two weeks until Hawaii, right?  Have you found the perfect bikini yet?” she asks excitedly.

          I stop what I’m doing and look up.  _Hawaii_ _?_

          Esme meets my eyes for a moment and I swear she blushes a little.  She turns to her adopted daughter and smiles. 

          “Carlisle and I decided it would be best if he attended that conference alone this year.  We’ll be going back for our anniversary next year instead.  Can you believe we’ll have been married for twenty-five years?  Time flies.”

          I watch carefully and see that Tori hears everything Esme’s not saying.  I do too.  The intimidating red head’s eyes fall on me and then back to her mother.

          “Esme, can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?”

          I stand and gesture to my hands.  “I’ll just throw these out.”

          “You don’t have to, Anna Bella...” Esme begins.

          “No, it’s fine,” I smile. “I need something else to drink anyway.  Can I get you anything?”

          “No, thank you, dear,” she answers.  “I’m sorry.”  She frowns at Tori.

          Tori just smiles.  “I’ll have some coffee, if you’re offering.  Do you mind?”

          I smile back even as Esme protests again. 

           “I don’t mind at all,” I say.  And I really don’t. 

          I leave the room, glad to be free from the togetherness and alone with my thoughts for a few minutes.  Once in the kitchen, I hear mother and daughter talking even though I busy myself with throwing out the trash and making some coffee.  Esme always grinds her own beans, so the noise from that muffles their conversation as I go about the task.  Still some of their words come through.

          “...you’ve been looking forward to it for over a year.”

          “...not the right time.”

          “.... she’s almost eighteen.”

          “... can’t leave her alone.”

          “...  just a few days.”

          If I grind the coffee beans any longer, they’ll turn to dust. 

          “No, Victoria.  She’s been through an ordeal,” I hear Esme say as the grinder comes to a halt. 

          Their voices lower, but I can still hear.

          “Were you like this with all of us?”

          “Yes, I was.  But even then...  this is different, sweetheart.  You and your brothers all had rough patches.  It was to be expected.  But I can’t tell you how worried your father and I have been about her.  Edward is worried as well.  She was making progress, but now she hardly speaks to anyone at school.  She only speaks to us when she has to.  It’s like she’s a zombie sometimes.  I just don’t feel right leaving her now.”

          Once the coffee maker is brewing, I slide down the cabinets to sit on the floor.  I knew they were worried, but I hadn’t realized the scope of it.  I hadn’t realized I was affecting everyone else.  First Edward, then Dr. Cullen, and now Esme.  So much so that she’d cancelled a vacation she’s been planning for over a year.  I press my fingers to my forehead and drop my head to my knees. 

          Maybe it’s time to leave.  Maybe the safe-house would be best.

          “So you heard?” Tori’s voice asks, startling me with her proximity.  My head snaps up to find her leaning against the counter not more than a few feet away from me. 

          I nod.  “Yeah.”

          She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, looking me over.  “So, what are we going to do about it?”

          I blink at her.  “Um... I can talk to her.” _Or leave_ , I think to myself.

          She scoffs.  “I already tried.  And, I’ve known her longer.  Trust me, she has her mind made up.  She won’t leave you alone here.  Not for a day.”

          “So what should I do?  She shouldn’t miss her trip because of me.”

          “No, she shouldn’t.”   Tori glances towards the doorway and back.  She drops her voice.  “We need a plan.”

          “Okay... any ideas?” I ask, confused by what kind of plan she means.

          “Well, I can work from just about anywhere as long as I give my boss some notice.”  She pulls out a Blackberry and starts pushing buttons.  “They’re supposed to leave on a Saturday and return the following Sunday.  I can stay here with you Saturday ‘til Thursday.  But... I have a meeting in Seattle that particular Friday that I can’t move.  We’d need somebody else to stay with you on Thursday and Friday nights.  Unless you have a friend from school you could crash with instead.”

          I pale.  “I’m not really that close with anyone from school.”

          Tori tilts her head to one side.  “And why is that?  Were you a loner before you came to live with my mom and dad?  Or is your anti-social behavior new?”

          I laugh because she’s just so matter of fact.  I think a real teenager would be terrified of her.  I’m only a couple of years younger than she is and I find her to be slightly hard to take.

          “I guess I’ve always been a little shy, but now...” I shake my head. “It’s just easier to keep to myself.”

          “That’s bullshit,” she says.

          My eyes widen.

          “It takes a lot of energy to be contrary all the time.  Trust me; acting like I didn’t care was a specialty of mine.  I handled it by acting like a bitch raging against the world.  You handle it by acting like a zombie unaware of the world.  Both take effort.”

          I sit and contemplate her words for a moment.  She grabs a mug from one of the cupboards and pours a cup of coffee for herself.  Before she leaves the kitchen, she stops in front of me.

          “I’ll give you a couple of days to think about who you’d like to stay with, if you can think of anyone, and then I’m asking one of my brothers to help out.  If Emmett doesn’t have the night shift, I’m sure he can do it.  If he can’t, there’s always Edward.  Can you live with that?”

          When I don’t answer right away due to the rush of anxiety I feel, she nods and smiles impishly.   “I’ll take that as a yes.”

          Two weeks later, Esme and Carlisle are loading their suitcases into his Mercedes while Tori pulls her bag for the week out of her BMW.  I watch them hug and exchange last minute instructions from the window of my room.  When I see Carlisle glance up and wave, I wave back and head downstairs. 

          “You’ll be okay here with Victoria?” he asks, whispering in my ear while I let him hug me goodbye. 

          “I’ll be fine.”

          “Edward too?” he adds, giving me a meaningful look. 

          Emmett does end up with the night shift the week of the trip and Carlisle knows Edward’s not the most comfortable choice for me because of the way we’ve both been acting since the night Jasper left.  Unfortunately, with all four of their “children” insisting they take their trip to Hawaii, they’ve agreed to our plan anyway. 

          “It’s fine,” I promise him.  “Really.  Have fun.”

          He smiles and nods.  “I will with my wife there.  Thank you, Anna Bella.  Tori, we really appreciate you doing this too.”

          He hugs his daughter again. 

          “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to call.  Day or night,” Esme says, hugging me at the same time. I have to laugh, or else I would cry.  She’s so like my own mother sometimes.

          “Darling, she’s fine,” Carlisle says, rescuing me from bursting into tears. 

          Tori puts her arm around my shoulder.  “She has me.  Of course, she’s fine.”

          I roll my eyes and smile.  “Go on.  You have a plane to catch,” I say.  “We’ll see you in a week.”

          Esme touches my cheek and reluctantly gets in the car.  When she’s seated and the door is shut, Carlisle walks back around to the driver’s side and turns to us. 

          “If Edward gives you two any trouble you have my permission for Anna Bella to go with you to Seattle, Tori.  I don’t see any problem with her missing a day of school and have notified the principal to that effect.  Emmett also said to let him know if there was anything you needed.  You guys have his new number at work?”    

          We nod and he gets in the car, rolling the window down.

          “Be good, girls,” he says as he begins to back out of the driveway.

          “We won’t,” Tori shouts.

          I laugh at Carlisle’s face and wave to Esme who looks worried already.  I force a smile as they drive away and she seems to relax.  When they’re gone, Tori drags me inside and announces that playtime has begun. 

          The week with Victoria goes by really fast, but really well.  She doesn’t hover.  She doesn’t ask a lot of questions.  She just demands that I stop trying so hard to be a recluse. 

          “It doesn’t suit you,” she says while I start dinner on Thursday evening.

          “What doesn’t suit who?” a warm voice floats into the kitchen.  I sigh and try to fight down the butterflies in my stomach.  They’re so bad I don’t even notice I’m blushing until Tori kicks my foot.

          “Does he really make you that nervous?” she asks, gesturing to my cheeks.  I shrug.

          “Edward,” Tori says, turning to him haughtily. “What kind of terror tactics are you using in your math classes these days?”

          “Tori...” I hiss.

          “What are you talking about?” he asks, setting down his duffle bag on the floor.  “And hello, to you too, by the way.”

          “Hi, brother dear,” Tori says, putting her hands on her hips.  “Now, seriously... why is Bella scared to death of you?”

          “What!?” Edward practically shouts.

          “I’m not scared of him!” I shriek, spinning around. 

          There’s this weird moment where everyone is looking at each other and nobody is saying anything.  I can see Tori trying to work things out, but then she scoffs. 

          “Geez, you guys I was just kidding.”

          “Why would you kid about that?” Edward asks, looking truly upset. 

          “Apparently, I misunderstood something.  Not really my fault though, big brother.  Especially considering you’ve been acting like there’s a stick up your ass lately.  Emmett sounds like he’s about ready to move out.  Even Carlisle’s noticed.”

          Edward stiffens a little.  “Yes, I am aware of Carlisle’s opinion.  And as for Emmett?  He has my blessing to find his own place and stop mooching off of me anytime.” 

          I frown.  I don’t like the way he’s talking about his family, and worry that it’s my fault.  They’ve always seemed so close before.  I turn back to the vegetables I’d been chopping and then work on dinner for another few minutes.  In that time, I resolve to do something about the situation with Edward before this weekend is up.  I’m not exactly sure how I will handle it, but I know he needs to stop torturing himself and everyone else just because I have major baggage.

          After a brief goodbye, Tori leaves to head back to Seattle, telling me to call her if her brother doesn’t behave.  I assure her that we’ll be fine and send her on her way. 

          When she’s gone, I finish dinner while Edward heads up to his childhood room to unpack before rejoining me.  He cleans the dishes and pans I’ve used so far, even though I tell him not to, insisting that he wants to help.  The tone of his voice makes me look over at him and I realize he means more than just helping with the dishes.   

          When dinner is ready, Edward suggests that we eat in the family room, rather than at the dining table.  We eat together in relative quiet, a movie on cable playing in the background to fill the silence.  I don’t pay much attention to it and, a few minutes after we finish our meal, I say goodnight.  Any resolve I felt to speak to Edward before not-surprisingly disappeared with Tori an hour ago.

          It’s still early when I get to my room, so I take my time showering and even blow out my hair with a hairdryer and round-brush.  I haven’t done anything of the sort with my hair in months.  It’s longer than I remember it being and, with the fancy products that Esme purchased for me when I moved here, it’s also amazingly shiny and soft. 

          Dressed in my favorite pajamas –flannel shorts, a long sleeve jersey shirt and fuzzy socks– I look through my closet absently, thinking I might as well pick my clothes for tomorrow.  I run to my desk first to check the forecasted temperature on the internet before deciding on what I’ll need to wear, and then decide to turn some music on while I’m already sitting in front of the computer.  Once Pandora loads up a mix of my favorites, I go back to my closet.

          A soft knock sounds on the door and startles me.  I jump and feel myself flush in embarrassment.  Calming my breath, I answer.

          “Come in.”

          The door opens slowly, and only just a couple of inches. 

          “Hey, are you still up?”  Edward’s voice calls from the hallway.

          “Yeah, I’m up,” I answer softly. 

          “May I come in?” he asks, sounding as nervous as I feel.

          “Of course.”

          “Hi,” he says once the door is fully open. 

          “Hi,” I say, surprised to see him in flannel pants and t-shirt.  It’s one of those grey ones with simple black letters that spell out NAVY.  He looks... really good.  That’s actually a vast understatement, but I don’t allow myself to go there.

          “So I just got a call from Principle Greene,” he says, pulling my attention from the letters across his chest.  “The main water line leading into the school burst about an hour ago.  We’ll be on a two-hour delay tomorrow, or we might not have classes at all.  It depends on whether or not the county can fix the break and get water restored to the school by 6am.”

          “Oh, wow.”

          “Yeah.  I just wanted to let you know.  You should be able to sleep in a little tomorrow.  If you want.”

          I smile.  “Thanks.  You too, right?”

          He chuckles.  “Except for the phone call at six to tell me whether or not to come in to work, yeah.”

          “Oh, right,” I laugh quietly. 

          “Anyway, I’m sorry to disturb you.”

          “You didn’t.”

          “Oh?”

          “No, I was just... doing nothing.”

          “You look...” he pauses and seems to fumble for words.  “...ready for bed.”  

          “I am,” I answer.

          “So... maybe I’ll let you get back to that.”

          “Okay,” I say smiling, because he looks so uncertain and adorable with his brow all wrinkled. 

          “Okay,” he says. 

          “Goodnight,” I offer.

          “You too, Bella.  Sleep well.”

          “Sleep well, Edward,” I answer, watching him with a certain degree of disappointment when he backs out of the room and closes the door behind him.  Did I want him to stay and say something else? Yes.  Is it better that he didn’t? Probably.

          The next morning, I open my eyes wearily to another muted grey morning on the Olympic Peninsula.  I stretch and hope silently that Edward got the good night’s sleep I wished him.  I certainly didn’t.  I’ve been weaned off of the medication Carlisle prescribed me over three months ago, but last night I could have used it.  I don’t know why my dreams were so vivid or so violent.  I shiver at the memory of the worst of them. 

          Rolling over, I decide to check the clock.  I’d left it set to get up for school just in case we had to go, so I’m surprised to see it’s already after 10:30.  I sit up suddenly and throw the covers off, running to the window first to make sure Edward’s car is in the driveway and he hasn’t left.  The car’s there, so I turn around and listen for any noise coming from elsewhere in the house.  I hear none. 

          That’s when I notice my door.  It’s open 3/4 of the way and I’m 99% sure that I locked it last night before going to bed.  It’s a habit I’ve had since college and one that’s become more ingrained in the last five months. 

I’m immediately suspicious and walk towards it like it’s going to bite me.  Alarm bells start going off in my head as my heart pounds in my chest.  Then a thought runs unbidden through my mind. 

          _Someone’s in the house.  Someone’s here in my room._

          I freeze in place and look around quickly, spinning in place.  I see no one. 

          I turn back to the door and try to remember getting up to open it.  I can’t so I around again and go to the closet.  I open it and am relieved it’s empty.  I dash inside and find the duffle bag off of the top shelf.  It looks untouched at well.  I crouch down, open it and feel around in the bottom.  The envelope is still there.  I exhale in relief, stand up and contemplate whether or not I’m overreacting.  Peering out of my closet, I look around my room again to see if I missed any signs. 

          The only other thing out of place looks to be my copy of Wuthering Heights.  I was reading last night before I fell asleep.  It should be in my bed, or maybe on the floor, but instead it’s now sitting on my desk.  Which is across the room from my bed. 

          Suddenly something occurs to me and I don’t know whether to be angry or more terrified than I was before. 

          _Edward._

          Either it was Edward in my room.  Or it was someone else and Edward is in danger too. 

          As I think and listen, the silence in the house seems deafening now.  If he were alright, wouldn’t he be up?  He should be making some sort of noise, snoring or something, but I hear nothing.  Without much thought of what I would do if there were actually somebody here to hurt me, I step out in the hall and move as quietly but purposefully as I can.  I reach the other end second floor where Emmett and Edward’s old bedrooms are and pause.  Edward’s door is open. 

          Fear begins to take hold as I creep closer to the wooden frame.  I think I can hear him breathing in there, but I’m too scared to move any faster.  My eyes remain locked on the floor and then scan the periphery of the room as it comes into view.  It’s like one of those scenes out of a horror movie where the suspenseful music builds to a crescendo and you think something terrifying is about to happen. 

          And then just as it often happens in the movies, there turns out to be nothing frightening in there at all.  In fact, the sight before me as I finally come to stand in Edward’s doorway is anything but frightening. 

          He’s asleep.  And shirtless.  And apparently unharmed. 

          Edward is face down in bed, tangled up in his white and blue plaid sheets, and naked from the waist up.  I blink and watch the muscles in his back expand with his breathing.  The movement quickly saps all of my attention.  I can’t even remember why I came in here anymore.  At all.

          It’s impossible not to notice that he’s extremely well-toned.  He’s not bulky by any means, but definitely muscular.  I’m horrified to find that I’m blatantly ogling him.  The longer I stand here, the harder it becomes to turn around and walk away.  Somehow I manage to do so, but on my way out I trip and stub my toe on the doorframe. 

          The cry that escapes me is really loud and Edward stirs.  I slap my hand over my mouth and hop out the door, stopping halfway down the hall when I hear his sleepy voice behind me.

          “Bella?”

          I stop and turn slowly, having no idea how I’m going to explain why I’m hobbling away from his room.  Fortunately, he must have called out while still in his bed, because he’s not standing anywhere I can see him.  Before that can change, I hop faster down the hall and disappear inside my room, closing the door behind me.

          Fifteen minutes later, after swallowing down my embarrassment for freaking out over nothing, I’m dressed for the day and ready to reemerge from my room.  I’m fairly sure that school must have been cancelled, so I check the Forks High website to confirm it before heading downstairs to get some breakfast. I silently hope that Edward went back to sleep, but that hope is squashed as soon as I hit the ground floor.

          The smell of coffee wafts towards me as I make my way towards the kitchen.  A muted crunching sound can be heard as I approach, and I slow, stopping in the doorway to just look at him for a moment.  Edward is sitting at the island countertop with a bowl of cereal, a cup of coffee and the newspaper.  He’s watching me too and tries to smile even though his mouth is full of whatever it is he’s eating.  I can’t help but giggle when a dribble of milk escapes.

          “Good morning,” I say as I walk in the room.  

          “Morning,” he answers when his mouth is no longer full.  “Did you sleep alright?” 

          I glance at his face and notice his expression is a mixture of concern and something else that looks a little like guilt.  A thought occurs to me and I’m suddenly in a teasing mood, so I smile to myself and just go with it. 

          “I slept okay,” I say as I turn my back to him and reach for the cupboard above the coffee maker.  “Did you... Mr. Stalker?” I add nonchalantly.  

          I get no reply of course, so I glance back at Edward as I pull a coffee mug down.  I’m not surprised that he’s frozen mid-chew and looking completely blindsided.  I have a hard time holding in my laughter as he swallows loudly and tries to form words.

          “I beg your pardon,” he manages.

           “I said... Did you sleep well, Mr. Stalker,” I repeat.  This time I fail to hold in the giggle when I sneak another look at his face. 

          His eyebrows reach his hairline and he sputters at me.  “What are you...? Why do you...?  I never...”

          “Well, you were in my room last night, weren’t you?” I ask, pouring my coffee.  “I mean, I really hope it was you, but I can only guess since I’m fairly sure that you waited until I was asleep to sneak in.” 

          He says nothing while I go about putting the coffee pot away and getting some milk.  I look up when I’ve retrieved it and raise an eyebrow. 

          “That’s a little stalker-ish, don’t you think?”

          This time he looks utterly panicked and I really don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ve never teased him like this before.  I’ve barely even spoken to him in the last month.  Realizing this, I start to think maybe this was a bad idea.  I begin to apologize at the same time he does. 

          “I’m just teasing–”

          “Bella... I’m sorry.  You were–” He stops and looks up at me.  “Wait, you were teasing me?”

          “Yes, of course,” I say, trying to offer him a contrite smile.  “I am curious about one thing though.”

          The relief on his face is palpable and he smiles.  “Anything.”

          “How did you get in?  I’m almost 100% sure I locked the door.” 

          His face falls a bit, but he looks properly abashed, so I know I can’t be too mad at him. 

          “Um, there are little screwdriver-like keys above all of the doorframes in the house.  I used one of those.”

          “Why?  I mean, like I said, I’m not really mad, but what made you feel you had a right to use one of those and barge into my locked bedroom without gaining permission?” I ask calmly.

          He sighs and rubs his face, uttering an expletive under his breath.  “Okay, look, I promise that I didn’t just barge in.  I knocked, but you didn’t wake up.  You were having a nightmare.”

          I blink and put my coffee down.  “And you could hear me?”

          “Yes,” he answers, gauging my reaction before continuing.  “You sounded really distressed.  I...” he sighs, running his hand through his hair.  “I got scared.  I thought maybe...”  He shakes his head and drops his hand.  “At one point I guess I was worried that somehow, someone had gotten in there and was hurting you. I probably would have broken the door down if the key hadn’t been right there.”

          I snort.  “That’s funny.”

          “Funny?”    

          I smile and shake my head.  “Not funny-amusing, just funny-ironic.  I worried almost the same thing this morning when I saw that the door was open.  When I didn’t find anyone in my room, I thought...” I shrug.  “I don’t know. I just panicked a little since I knew you were home, but I couldn’t hear any noise in the house.”  I laugh, but it comes out bitterly.  “You don’t even snore, do you know that?  I thought all men snore.”

          Edward’s eyes grow surprised.  “You were worried?  About _me_?” he asks, surprise evident in his voice as well.  It makes my cheeks flush and I look away, shrugging. 

          “I always worry about you.  And Esme and Carlisle,” I add quickly.  “My biggest fear is that you guys will get hurt because of me.”

          “That’s your biggest fear?” he asks, incredulous.  “Not that someone might want to hurt _you_ ,” he clarifies.  “But that _we_ might end up collateral damage?”

          I cringe because it’s truer than even I want to admit.  There’s nothing worse I can think of than the Cullens getting hurt.  Not missing the Olympics, or never seeing Phoenix again, or even getting killed myself.  I mean, were it just me, what else would I have to lose at this point anyway?  But it’s not just me anymore. 

          Despite my best efforts to stay detached, the Cullens have come to mean so much to me; more than I can explain, and certainly more than I should tell Edward ––especially Edward.  He means more to me than I am even willing to admit to myself. 

          I hear the scraping of his chair and feel, more than see, him walk around the island until he’s standing right in front of me. 

          “Is that why you refused to speak to me after that night?” he asks.  “Because I told you that we care about you, and you think that by keeping us at arm’s length you can keep us safe?”

          I keep my eyes locked on my coffee mug, but nod after a moment.  

          “Oh, Bella...” Edward sighs, trying to get me to lift my head by placing his fingers at my chin.  I know that if I look at him, he’ll see everything I’m feeling in my eyes and I really can’t afford that now. 

          Unfortunately, he lowers his voice and pleads with me in a tone I could never deny.  “Please look at me, Anna Bella.”

          The instant my eyes meet his I’m reminded of the first day we met, and I might as well be lying flat on my back again because I’m just as helpless now.  Does he know?  Can he see?  I feel transparent, like my eyes are telling him everything. 

          _I love you.  I’m afraid for you.  I never want to leave you.  But I can’t ever have you._

          Before I know it, I’m blinking back tears and Edward pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

          “Come ‘ere,” he murmurs, giving me no option. 

          Just like the first time, he feels like home to me, and I relax into him, unable not to.  Burying my face in his t-shirt, I draw my hands close to my cheeks and fist the material of his shirt tightly.  I breathe him in and try not to lose myself as he holds me. If I do, I know I won’t be able to stop.  I haven’t truly let go of my emotions since I buried my parents.  Nor have I been able to be completely open about all I’m feeling since I came here.  I know that I’m growing dangerously close to my breaking point, and if I get there, it’s all coming out whether I want it to or not. 

          The scariest part is that Edward, this incredible man who I feel more for than I ever have before, could break me so easily.  Worse than that, he wouldn’t even mean to.  He would do it with the best of intentions, the kindest of words, or the softest of touches.  Still, I’m unable to leave the comfort of his arms as he holds me.  I want to stay right here forever because, breath by breath, minute by minute, the weight of everything I’m holding onto inside me starts to dissipate. 

          Edward seems to sense it too.

          “Better?” he asks, squeezing me just a bit tighter before relaxing his hold and pulling back to look at me.

          “Better,” I answer softly, surprised when my voice doesn’t tremble. 

          He smiles and steps back a bit.  “Good.  Now maybe we can talk about a few things?”

          I swallow nervously, but nod.  “I’m sorry,” I rasp.  At the same time, I realize I’m still holding onto him like a dying woman, so I let go of his shirt like it was on fire. 

          “Don’t apologize,” he says softly, misunderstanding.  “You’ve done nothing wrong.  If either of us is out of line, it’s me.  I just thought you could use a hug.”

          “No,” I say, shaking my head.  “That’s not what I meant.  You weren’t out of line –at all.  I just meant that I’m sorry I’ve been acting the way I have for the last month or so.  I just thought, I still think it would have been better –easier for all of us– if no one got attached.”

          “Well, it’s a little too late for that now,” he smiles.

          I snap my eyes to his.  “Please don’t say that.”

          He examines my face for a moment.  “Are you really _that_ scared?  Do you really believe you’re in that much danger?”

          I close my eyes.

          He touches my chin.  “You’re safe here, Bella.  The FBI, or the US Marshals, or whoever it is, wouldn’t have just left you unprotected if you weren’t.”

          I sigh.  “I’m safe here for _now_.  That could change in a heartbeat though.  And at some point I’ll have to–” I stop short.

          “What?  You’ll have to what?”

          I shake my head, not believing how close I came to talking about the trial and criminal who murdered my parents. 

          “Nothing,” I say stepping around him.  I turn and face him again.  “See?  I can’t let you in.   I can’t talk to you about this.  I’ll make a mistake, and you’ll hear something you shouldn’t.  And all it would take is for the wrong person to overhear-”

          He stops me.  “Listen to me for a second.  That would be a risk for you anywhere, right?  But you’re not just anywhere, you’re here with us.  Now, I believe there’s a reason for that, Bella, and no matter what you think, you can’t keep the rest of us safe by pushing us away.  You’ll only end up hurting yourself.”

          “But don’t you see?!” I shout.  “That’s exactly what will happen anyway!  Someday I’ll have to leave you!  Either someone will find out where I am, or the time will come for me to testify and face those responsible for my parents’ murders.  Either way, I’ll lose you!” 

          I don’t realize the words are going to come out until they already are, and my cheeks flame in embarrassment. 

          “No you won’t,” Edward insists, stepping closer to me.  “I told you.  It’s too late for that.  You’re stuck with me now; with us.  As rag-tag a family as this is, it’s yours now too. If you want it.”

          I drop my head and wipe away the random tears that still threaten to spill over.  “I don’t... I can’t...” I sputter, frustrated.  “I just came down here for breakfast.”

          Edward sighs.  “So, why don’t we start with toast and coffee, then work up to the rest?”

          I chew on my lip, but stay silent.  What can I say to that?

          “We’re already involved, Bella.  Let us help you.  Let me help.”

          “You can’t help me.”

          “I can try.  Let’s just take it one step at a time.  Step one can be breakfast.”

          A plate with some toast on it slides into my view, followed by the coffee I’d poured earlier. 

          I feel a smile threaten the corner of my lips and lift my eyes to meet his warm gaze.  I wish so much that I could tell him everything and he could understand, but I can’t.  So I decide I’ll take what I can get. 

          “Okay, then,” I nod.  “What did you have in mind for step two?”

~(~)~

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Chapter 4—
> 
> “What did you have in mind for step two?”

~(~)~

        

  Edward sits down across from me and opens the paper with one hand.  With the other he slides a jar of blackberry preserves towards me. 

          I wonder how he knows that it’s my favorite.

          He still hasn’t answered my question, but not long after I start eating my toast, he clears his throat and smiles at me. 

          “So, it’s Friday.  What about a movie?”

          “A movie?”

          He nods, a pensive look on his face.  “Yeah, we could use a distraction.  It’s zero-pressure fun, you know?”

          “Okay.  Yeah, I guess so.”

          He smiles again and I feel my traitor cheeks heat up.  “I need to run by the school first.  Since class was cancelled unexpectedly, I have to pick up some work that I’ll need to finish over the weekend, but after that we could go,” he says. 

          “Are you even allowed to take one of your students to the movies?” I ask, regretting the question as soon as I’ve voiced it.

          He’s quiet a moment, and I hear him fold the paper. 

          “Honestly, Bella, I’m already acting in a more familial capacity this weekend anyway.  All of the faculty at the school and half the town know that I’m staying with you.  It’s all on the up and up.”  He shrugs, seeming very matter of fact about the whole thing.  

          “Are you sure?  I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble over me.  For anything.”

          He sighs.  “If it weren’t such a small town you wouldn’t even be my student, but things being the way they are in Forks, this is just something a lot of the faculty and staff have to deal.  Unless, of course, you prefer not to be seen with me?  Now that I would understand.  I mean, who wants to be seen with their dorky math teacher?” 

          He’s joking I can tell, but I can’t help the protest that leaves my lips.

          “Dorky!?”

          He chuckles.  “Yes, dorky.”

          I smile.  “You’re anything but dorky.  Unless you keep using the word ‘dorky’, then I may have to reconsider.”

          He laughs more fully and I join him. 

          “So a movie then?”

          I lift my eyes to meet his gaze.  “Yeah, that would be okay.”

          “Good.  Here are the show-times.”

          He passes me the paper and I look at it while we finish breakfast.  Afterwards, he goes upstairs to get cleaned up so he can drive over to the high school and get what he needs for the next couple days.  He asks me if I want to ride with him, and I can’t think of a reason not to, so I do.  As soon as he finishes up at the school, we leave for Port Angeles. 

          We stop for lunch at a little diner on the way out of town.  The moment we walk in, I can’t help but think it’s the kind of place my dad would have loved; they even have his favorite kind of cobbler on the menu.  Things like that make me contemplative, so I’m quiet for most of lunch and during the rest of the drive.

          “You seem thoughtful,” Edward comments in between songs on the radio.

          I nod.  “Mm-hmm.”                                                                                                                              

          “May I ask what about?”

          “My dad,” I admit.

          Edward nods.  “Was that what your nightmare was about last night?”

          I sigh.  “I don’t entirely remember.  Why?”

          “No reason.  I was just curious.”

          “Why?  Did I say anything?  You know... in my sleep?” I ask, suddenly afraid of what may have slipped out of my mouth.

          “You didn’t say much when you were crying, Bella.  What did come out after was mostly incoherent.”

          “Mostly?” I say, my voice cracking over the word.

          “Don’t worry, you didn’t reveal the top-secret location of Area 51 or anything.  I think you may have mentioned your father and mother.  Other than that I didn’t understand it.   Except for something about swans.”

          I feel myself pale a little.  “Swans?”

          “That’s what it sounded like.”

          I say nothing else, thinking that if I try to offer some overly detailed explanation then he will know I’m lying, or trying to hide something.  Fortunately, Edward lets me just have some time with my thoughts.  I appreciate that he isn’t forcing the conversation, though I wonder why.  Doesn’t it seem odd that I would have been having a nightmare about a swan?  Maybe not since most people know that dreams make little sense. 

          I try to remember what my nightmare last night was about.  I think it was the one where it’s the day of my parents’ murder and I know it’s going to happen, so I’m running frantically, trying every method I can think of to warn them.  To stop it.  But I never can.  I usually wake up in a cold sweat with the image of their lifeless bodies freshly emblazoned in my mind’s eye. 

          That wasn’t how I woke up this morning however, and I wonder why last night was different.  I wonder if it was something Edward did once he got the door open that changed the pattern.  Which makes me wonder what exactly he did do once he saw I wasn’t in trouble, but was just having a bad dream. 

          “Can I ask you a question?” I ask, turning towards him.

          He glances at me out the corner of his eye.  “Sure.”

          “What did you do when you got the door open?”

          “You mean last night?” he asks.

          “Yeah.”

          “I don’t know... stopped having a heart attack?” He grins at me.  “Really, I just double checked the room and made sure there were no monsters under your bed or in the closet or anything.”

          I smile.  “How’d that turn out?”

          “Monster free.”

          “Did you try to wake me up?” I ask.

          He’s quiet a moment, his fingers tightening and relaxing around the steering wheel.  “Yes.”

          “And?”

          “You don’t remember?” he asks quietly.

          I shake my head and then remember he’s driving and not looking at me.  “No,” I answer.

          He nods.  “I thought you’d woken up.  You stopped crying and...”  He pauses and swallows, “You said my name.  You seemed fine after that, but I left the door open just in case.” 

          I let his confession wash over me.  I’d either woken from my dream and seen him, but not enough to remember now, or, what seems more likely (considering how often he’s appeared in my dreams of late), I started dreaming about Edward as soon as he stirred me from my nightmare.  If that was the case, heaven knows what else he could have heard me say. 

          I close my eyes in embarrassment and cover my face before he can see how red I am.  I’m struggling to think of what I can possibly say to him that won’t embarrass me further when my cell phone rings and I breathe a sigh of relief.  There are only about five people with my phone number, but for the last week, I’ve gotten a call every day around this time.  

          “It must be 3:30,” I say and rummage through my purse to find the phone. 

          “Esme?” Edward asks.

          “You know her well, I see.”

          Edward chuckles and turns down the radio as I answer the call.

          Esme tells me she and Carlisle are having a fabulous time in Hawaii.  The conference Dr. Cullen was attending in Honolulu finished yesterday and they took a small plane to another island last night.  She sounds tired, and explains that they woke up at three in the morning  Hawaii time just to be shuttled to the top of a volcano and bike all the way back down.  When she asks how school was today, I tell her that it was cancelled and explain about the broken pipe.  She’s immediately worried, so I let her talk to Edward for the next ten minutes.  I have no idea what they talk about because I zone out as soon as I look out the window and see the sun peeking through the clouds. 

          By the time we get to Port Angeles, there is hardly a cloud in the sky and I’m nearly giddy that we have an hour of daylight to burn before the movie starts.  We get our tickets and then walk towards the waterfront, eventually finding a warm spot in the sun to just sit.  The ground is a little damp, but I don’t mind at all. 

          “Your hair has red in it,” Edward says at some point. 

          I smile.  “So does yours.”

          He chuckles.  “I believe I have heard that before.”

          We continue watching the water in front of us.  A Coast Guard ship sails by off in the distance, its bright orange stripe catching my attention and making me curious about something.

          “May I ask you a question?” I ask tentatively, still facing forward.

          “Of course,” Edward says.

          “What did you do when you were in the Navy?”

          He chuckles.  “That’s a Coast Guard vessel, Bella.  Navy are grey.”

          “Um, thanks there genius, I did see that.  The bold writing on the side sort of gave it away.”

          He laughs again and I see him watching me out the corner of my eye.  After a moment, he seems to sigh contentedly and rests his chin on his knees before continuing.

          “I was a Boatswain’s Mate, which is basically a glorified maintenance man. We did all kinds of stuff, anything necessary to keep our ship up to regulation every day.  Painting was somewhat of a specialty of mine.”

          My head twists to look at him without my permission.   “Painting?”

          He chuckles.  “Yeah.  Apparently the proper use of a drop-cloth is a highly coveted skill in enlisted men.”

          I must look at him like he has three heads or something, because his hands go to his hair and he scratches his head, looking embarrassed   “Not what you imagined, huh?”

          I giggle, and bite my lip because he’s ridiculously adorable.  “Not really, no, but that’s okay.”

          “It’s lame, I know.  I went in hoping to do something cool like work on an air-craft carrier, or maybe become a pilot someday.  I just didn’t stay in long enough, or go to college first.”

          I nod and turn my face back towards the water, closing my eyes instinctively when I feel the little bit of heat the sun’s rays offer in the waning light of day.   

          “You like the sun, don’t you?” Edward almost whispers.

          “Very much.  Do you?”

          “I do.  The _Roosevelt_ , that’s the ship I was stationed on, was homeported in Florida.  You know, the Sunshine State and all that.”

          “Do you miss it?” I ask, my eyes still closed.

          “Sometimes.  I missed my family more. I wasn’t here for Emmett’s high school graduation because I was at sea.  Then September 11th happened and I was in the Arabian Gulf when Tori’s adoption went through.  They didn’t even know where I was though, or if I was even getting their letters when they sent them.  Esme hated that.  I think she aged twenty years in the forty-eight months I spent on active duty.”

          I open my eyes and look at him.  He’s staring off at the water now too, his face thoughtful and seemingly ethereal in the sunlight.

          “You love them very much,” I say.

          He nods.  “I do.  It was hard when I first came to live with them, though.  I never thought I’d ever get over losing my, quote-un-quote, real family,” he says, pausing thoughtfully.  “I don’t really remember my father, but my grandmother spoke well of him.  And even though she couldn’t take care of me, my real mother called me every week for the first year or two after she sent me to live with my grandmother.  I remember listening to bedtime stories over the phone.” 

          He’s quiet a moment.  “Most of my other memories have faded, but I can still remember my mom’s voice and I know she loved me.  And my Grandma Beth was the greatest.  She never would have let me fall into state custody, but she had a sudden stroke in her sleep and they couldn’t find her will, or my mom.”

          “I’m sorry,” I say, realizing for maybe the first time that not every child who ends up in foster care had a horrible life or crappy parents before then.

          “Don’t be sorry for me,” he says, granting me a breathtakingly soft smile and looking me straight in the eye.  “I’ve had the rare privilege of being gifted with two families in my life.  Both who loved me very much.”

          I blink back tears and look away, out over the water.  He continues, his tone more casual.

          “I’ll be honest with you, Bella.  Losing my grandmother was hard.  Being in a group home before Esme and Carlisle came along was really hard.  And finding out my mom wasn’t just missing, but dead and had had another child that I never knew about?  Yeah, that really sucked.  To be honest, I think that’s what drove me to join the navy without thinking through what I was giving up.  But in the end, I guess it all worked out the way it was meant to.”

          It takes me some time to find my voice to respond. 

          “I hope that I’ll be able to think that way some day.  I just don’t know if I can.  My parents weren’t supposed to die.”

          Edward shakes his head and sighs.  “No, they weren’t.  But, Bella...”  He scoots over and turns to face me.  “Even if you never look at your own experience the way I look at mine, you can be happy again.  Just give it some time.”

          I nod and wipe away the tear or two that have escaped. 

          “Maybe,” I say, and, at the moment, that’s the most I can offer him. 

          The sun, which had been shining so brightly for the first time since I moved here, eventually dips down in the horizon and is eclipsed by some clouds off in the distance.  The chill that defines the Pacific Northwest returns, and I wrap my arms around myself and lean towards the man seated at my side a lot more than I should. 

          Edward suggests we head to the theater for our movie and offers me his jacket.  I politely decline and tell him I’ll be warmer once we’re moving.  It’s mostly true, but I’m actually afraid that if he gives me his jacket, I might be overcome by the urge to sniff it.  Really, it wouldn’t be my fault though.  The man just smells good.

          Once we get to the theater, we have just enough time to get some popcorn and a drink before the movie starts.  It’s a Friday night so there’s a line.  We’re waiting and talking randomly about the almost criminal price of a large tub of popcorn when I notice two people in the next line over staring at me.  They turn away and whisper to each other before looking back at me.  I avert my eyes and face the front of the concession stand. 

          “Are you sure you don’t want anything besides a drink?” Edward asks, as we step forward a bit in line. 

          “No, thank you,” I say softly, noticing that the couple from before are now talking more animatedly and I hear the phrase _three-position_ clearly.  I step closer to Edward and try to hide as my heart begins beating wildly.  When the guy next to us leans around Edward to get a better look at me, or perhaps to get my attention, I bolt.

          “I’m going to go use the restroom,” I say suddenly and turn away.

          “Are you okay?” Edward asks, surprised by my odd departure no doubt.

          “I’m fine,” I say over my shoulder, but I keep walking.

          After several minutes of hiding in one of the stalls, my panic attack is mostly under control, so I wash my hands and take a deep breath before returning to the lobby. 

          “Hey,” Edward says as soon as I appear.  “Are you alright?”

          I blush.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Sorry about that.”

          “You scared me a little,” he laughs, and I smile apologetically as he hands me my Cherry Coke. 

          “I didn’t mean to.  I just realized that I’d never be able to make it through the whole movie.”

          He looks unconvinced, but lets it go as we head in to find some seats. 

          The movie is decent –funny, but not over the top.  I’m just saying so when someone jogs up behind me and taps me on the shoulder on our way out of the theater.  Surprised, Edward and I both turn to see who it is.

          “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but... you’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?”

          My heart stops.  The whole world creeps to a standstill at the same time.  I suck in a breath and it feels as though the man’s words are echoing off of every surface and bouncing back to stun me. 

          It takes me a moment to gather my wits and my voice.

          “I’m sorry,” I say, breathlessly.  “You must have me confused with someone else.”

          The man looks confused, and shakes his head, still smiling.  “No, I’m sure you’re her.  You have to be.  My little sister idolizes you.  She has your picture on her wall at home.  We watched you on TV at the 2008 Olympics and saw you shoot last summer at the National Championships in Georgia.”

          I pale.  “No, that wasn’t me.  I’m sorry, I...”

          “Oh, come on.  You look exactly like her.  Are you sure you aren’t Isabella Swan?” the guy asks, grinning in a way that I’m sure would normally charm a girl.  It makes me want to throw up. 

          His female companion has joined him now and he finally seems to notice he’s making me uncomfortable, so he lowers his voice.

          “Look, I’m sorry.  If you aren’t her, then I’m being an ass.  But if you are her, then my sister is going out for her first nationals this summer in air rifle and she is a huge, huge fan of yours.  She would love an autograph.  It would mean the world to her.”

          I whimper and feel unbelievably guilty.  Shooting isn’t the kind of sport that gets you stopped on the street very often, but because of that, the community’s somewhat of a close family.  It feels horrible to have to deny this man’s request, but I can feel all the pairs of eyes on me and I know I have to do just that. 

          “I’m sorry,” I start to say, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.  Edward’s voice is low in my ear.

          “It’s just an autograph.  Give the man what he wants and let’s get out of here.”

          The guy smiles anew.  “Please?  She wants to be just like you.”

          I look back at Edward confused, and slightly terrified.  His face is eerily calm, but he glances around to the small crowd gathering.  There are people looking on, trying to figure out who I am or why someone would want my autograph.  I need to get out of here before someone takes my picture or something else equally crazy.  Not that that’s ever been an issue in the past, but it would just be my luck that it would happen now when I’m supposed to be hiding from people who would rather see me dead than signing autographs. 

          The guy in front of me holds out a piece of paper and a pen.  “Please?  Can I just get an autograph for her?”

          I swallow hard, and with shaky hands take the paper and pen.  “What’s her name?” I rasp out. 

          “Bree Tanner.  And it’s B-R-E-E.”

          “Bree,” I repeat, writing her name the best that I can considering the amount of adrenaline coursing through my system.  I scrawl a quick note wishing her luck in the nationals and encouraging her to go out there and win one for me.  Then I sign my name.  My real name. 

          “Thank you so much,” Bree’s brother says when I hand him the note.  “She’ll be on cloud nine when she gets this.  I’m sorry for hassling you though.”

          I smile weakly.  “No problem.”

          “Well, it means a lot.  You really are her hero. And who knows, maybe we’ll see each other in June at the nationals, huh?” 

          I shake my head.  “Not this year.”

          He looks confused and then there’s a moment of understanding and I know the expression that washes over his face.  It’s pity.

          “Oh, God,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.  I forgot.  Oh, crap... I am so, _so_ sorry.  I wasn’t thinking.”

          “Don’t worry about it,” I manage.  “Tell your sister I wish her all the best.”

          The man nods and backs away penitently as his date whispers to him.  “What was that all about Riley?”  

          With Riley gone, I’m two seconds from falling into a million pieces.  I’m afraid to move.  I’m afraid to even look at Edward.  I’m afraid of what he’s going to say or do, afraid of what will happen now that my cover has just been blown wide open.  Suddenly, his hands are on my shoulders and he’s turning me to face him. 

          “What do you need?” he asks, his voice warm and full of concern.

          I close my eyes and exhale.  “Just get me out of here.”

~(~)~

          The next thing I know we’re in the car and speeding towards Forks.  I’m wearing Edward’s jacket, but it hasn’t stopped me from shivering almost non-stop since we left the theater.  Only when we’re halfway home do I start to feel warm again.  I have one thought running through my mind on a continuous loop, but I’m afraid to act on it.  I know I need to call Jasper and tell him what happened.  I just can’t make myself move.

          I’m in denial.  I keep telling myself that maybe that didn’t just happen.  I keep hoping I’ll wake up and find that I was dreaming.  Glancing over at Edward though, his face eerie in the light of the LEDs coming off of the dash board, I know I’m awake. 

          “Are you going to say anything?” I ask, finally breaking the silence of the last half hour.

          He looks over at me, seemingly startled by my voice.  “I don’t know what I should say, Bella.  I just want to get you home right now.”

          “Are you mad?”

          He looks shocked.  “Why would I be mad?”

          “I don’t know,” I say.  And I feel cold again.  I realize that what I’m most afraid of right now is his reaction.  Suddenly, or maybe finally, the tears start falling.  I don’t even realize I’m making any noise until I hear Edward’s voice.

          “Bella?  Bella, what’s wrong?”

          I shake my head because I don’t even know.  I think the weight of everything is starting to come down on me, but that doesn’t make any sense because what happened may not even be a big deal and I’m safe for now.  If not, then Jasper will come get me, or I’ll run. And it’s that thought that turns my cries into sobs.  I don’t want to go. 

          I hear Edward call my name again and then the car is slowing.  It’s raining again and completely dark outside as a result, so I have no idea where we are when we stop.  I only know that, unexpectedly, my door opens and Edward’s at my side.  He unfastens my seatbelt and turns me towards him.  He’s speaking comforting words and telling me he’s not mad; telling me not to be afraid, that he promises to protect me. 

          Then he lifts me out of the seat and, in a motion that’s unbelievably graceful, sits back down with me cradled in his arms. 

          “Bella, please don’t cry.  You’re fine.  It’s fine.”

          I bury my face in the crook of his neck and hope to God that he’s right.  He holds me tighter as I wrap my arms around his neck in a vice grip. 

          “I’ve got you,” he whispers. “You’re okay.”

          I nod against his neck and his hold on me tightens.  It’s almost too tight, but is just what I need.  I feel myself calming and exhale a breath.  I think it must rush over the skin of Edward’s neck because he shudders beneath me and his own breath hitches. 

          For the second time tonight the world seems to stop. 

          Everything changes all of a sudden and, at every point of contact, the feeling between our two huddled bodies becomes charged.  I breathe slowly, but shallowly, and hear Edward trying to do the same.  His arms stay wrapped around me, but I feel his posture change.  Before I even know what I’m doing, I turn my face and place a kiss on his neck below his jaw.  Edward goes still.  I do it again.  His arms pull me closer.  I do it again and feel him tremble at the contact. 

          Then he leans back.  His voice is a rough groan when he says my name.  I know it’s a plea.

          “Bella...”

          And I know.  He doesn’t have to say any more.  I pull my face away from him and loosen my arms around his neck.  I keep my eyes down as he releases his hold on me. 

          I’ve crossed a line.  _The_ line.  I don’t doubt that his next words will be a rebuke. 

          I am surprised when instead he grips my face and hesitates.  I look up just in time to see him close his eyes and kiss the top of my head.  His lips linger longer than necessary and when he pulls away, one of his thumbs strokes my cheek before he lets me go.  My eyes fall to the floor as he shifts to get out of the car.  When I’ve moved aside to let him up, he gets out and closes the door behind him.  He walks around the car and opens the driver’s side door a moment later to get in. 

          “Put your seatbelt on.  We need to get you home,” he says quietly, starting the engine and quickly pulling back onto the highway. 

            There is an undeniable awkwardness between us when we do finally reach the house.  At least it distracts me from my earlier panic.  I feel calmer now, strange as that is.  I’m still cold, most especially when we get in the house and I give Edward his jacket back.  We stand in the foyer, both of us trying to decide what we should say to each other.  I break the silence first.

          “I’m going to go take a shower and go to bed.  I have to call Jasper first, but...”

          “Will you let me know what he tells you?” Edward responds immediately.

          I meet his eyes.  He looks worried now. 

          I nod. “Of course.”

          “Thank you.”

          “You’re welcome.”

          “I’ll be in the study,” he informs me.

          “Okay, I’ll be upstairs,” I answer.

          He nods and I slip by him, escaping up the stairs and into my room.  I turn the water on in the shower before pulling my phone out and dialing.

          Deputy Whitlock doesn’t answer at first.  It goes to voicemail.  I’m not sure if I should leave a message, so I don’t.  Fortunately, he calls back right away. 

          “Bella?”

          “Hi, Jasper.”

          “What can I do for you?  Is everything okay?”

          I sigh.  “I don’t know.  Somebody recognized me this evening.  In Port Angeles, at the movie theater.”

          I hear a muffled voice and then a door close.  “Bella, how many times have I told you to be careful about mentioning anything about your location.”

          “Oops.  Sorry.”

          “It’s okay, I happen to be at the field office at the moment so it’s fine, but you can’t do that anymore.  Are you safe right now?”

          “Yes.  I just had somebody recognize me from the Olympics.  He asked for my autograph and said my real name at least a couple of times.  The guy’s little sister is an air rifle competitor.”

          “You were in public?”

          “At a movie theater.  There were some people looking on and Edward was there.”

          Jasper let out a frustrated breath.  “Well, damn.  That’s not the best news.”

          “I’m sorry.”

          “It’s not your fault, sugar.  I’ll get our people on it.  We’ll see if there’s been anything new pop up on the internet that would send anyone your way.”

          “Okay.”

          “Did you get a name for the man who approached you?  Even a first name would help,” he asks.

          “Um, I think it was Riley.  And his little sister is named Bree.  I think he said it was Bree Tanner or something like that.  She is supposed to be going to nationals in June.”

          “That helps.  We can find her and then we’ll find him.  As long as he was who he says he was.  Where are you now?”

          “At home.”

          “Did anyone follow you?”

          “No.”

          “You’re certain?”

          “Yes.  Edward stopped off on a side road for a few minutes on the way home.  There were no cars on the highway when we started driving again.”

          “That was good thinking.  Be sure to thank him for me.  Is he there with you now?”

          “He’s downstairs,” I say, not mentioning that Edward’s “good thinking” was most likely unintentional.

          “Is he asking a lot of questions?  Do you need me to remind him of our arrangement?”

           I smile at the concern in Jasper’s voice.  “No, I think he’s spooked, but he hasn’t even asked me about it yet.”

          “He probably will.  At this point, since he already knows your real name, just answer his questions in lieu of him Googling you or something.  The less cyber-activity related to you the better.  Got it?”

          “Got it,” I say. 

          “Try not to worry.  We’ll work it out.  You know what to do if you get into trouble, or if I call back and tell you to go?”

          “I know.”

          “Alright.  I’ll be in touch within the hour.”

          I hang up with Jasper, feeling both better and worse.  I’m still cold, so I take a long time in the shower just soaking up the heated water.  I am so glad that Esme and Carlisle have one of those heat-on-demand water heaters, because it means I can stay in as long as I want to. I may have to pay them back for the water bill though. Eventually, I begin to turn into a prune, so I get out and dry off. 

          Wrapping the towel around me, I dry my hair, using the round brush again like I did last night.  When I’m all dry from head to toe, I finally leave the bathroom to get my pajamas on.  My phone is sitting on my bed and I realize I forgot all about Jasper calling back.

          I missed him, but there’s a message.  I check it while still in my towel. 

          _Bella.  This is Deputy Whitlock.  Bad news, kiddo, you’re all over Twitter. Deputy Brandon and I will be there in the morning.  My gut instinct is we have to move you, but we’ll see how it looks tomorrow.  In the meantime stay home and be ready. Also call me back so I know you got this._

          I delete the message and dial Jasper back.  He fills me in on all the details, telling me he’s not happy about the autograph –which Bree Tanner posted a picture of on her Twitter account.  Since she’s connected with other Twitter users in the sport, it’s big news because I’ve been MIA and no one knows what happened to me.  Her brother even recounted the whole sordid account of how I denied who I was, and that I seemed nervous.  There are now rumors that I’d suffered a mental breakdown and was in Washington to check myself into an exclusive rehab clinic just outside Seattle.

          When Jasper and I are done talking, I crawl under the covers of my bed without bothering to put anything on.  I tuck the towel tighter around me and snuggle into the sheets and blankets, pulling them over my head.   My eyes prick, threatening tears, but there are none left.  I’m just exhausted.  And depressed.  I really, really don’t want to leave. 

          On the upside, I realize, I won’t be here to make Edward uncomfortable any longer.  I’m thinking about how it’s probably a blessing that I won’t have to deal with the consequences of my hasty actions earlier when there’s a light knock on the door. 

          I take a deep breath and pop my head out of the blankets.  The knock sounds again, louder and more insistent. 

          “Come in,” I say, sitting up without paying attention to what I’m wearing.

          The handle turns and Edward’s face appears through the opening a moment later.  I stand up suddenly, and clutch my towel tightly. 

          “Oh, crap!  Wait a second,” I yelp.

          His expression is startled as he averts his eyes.  He reaches out to grip the doorframe and turns.  “Sorry,” he says quickly. “Sorry.”

          “No, wait.  It’s my fault.  I was upset.  I wasn’t thinking,” I explain, my face as red as a tomato. 

          “Upset?  Why are you upset?  Did you talk to that Jasper guy? ” he asks, glancing back at me briefly before looking out into the hall again.  As brief a glance as it was, I can see he’s both concerned and unsettled. 

          I grip my towel tighter, making sure it doesn’t go anywhere, and sigh.  “I spoke to him, yes,” I say.  “He’s coming for me in the morning.”

          “Wait, what?!” Edward shouts unexpectedly.  “Are you...?  You’re leaving?” he asks, stepping fully into the room.

          I look down, still clutching my towel.  “I don’t know for sure yet.  But most likely, yes.”

          “Most likely?”

          “He hasn’t decided yet.  He wants to wait and see how it looks in the morning.  Either way, he told me to be ready.”

          “But you can’t leave now,” he protests. 

          I sigh.  “I may have to, for all our sakes.  Believe me, you’ll want me to go.”

          “No,” he says, stepping closer.  “Never.”

          I back up against the bed.  “You don’t know what you’re saying, Edward.  You have no idea how dangerous these people are, what they would do to keep from going to jail.  They’re very well connected and well-funded.  Why do you think I’m here living under another name?”

          My words cause him to inhale sharply and he lifts his eyes and his hand at the same time. 

          “That reminds me,” he says, his voice low. 

          I glance at his hand and see a piece of paper in it.  I look from the paper to him and back again as he opens it.  I’m shocked when I find that it’s my athlete’s profile from the USA Shooting website.  My picture, my name, my real birthdate, my hometown –it’s all there.  Why didn’t the FBI pull that down? 

          “I came up here to ask you about this,” he says, his eyes traveling over my face, searching for clues no doubt.  “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have done it, but I had to know.”

          “How did you find that?” I ask.

          “Does that matter?”

          “A little.  What did you, Google me?”

          “So it’s true?” he breathes, taking a step towards me.  

          I feel my pulse race to a fever pitch.  He’s looking at me as if he’s a burning man, holding onto the paper in his hand like it’s a life line.  I’m sure I’m misreading the desperation in his eyes and putting my own feelings onto him, but it seems like he’s begging me to end his suffering. 

          I want to.  But I can’t.  _Can I?_

          He steps forward again and it causes my breath to catch in my throat as I hold my towel closer, my knuckles likely white with tension.

          “Bella, is this the real you?” he demands.  “Are you really Isabella Marie Swan?”

          “I...” I hesitate and instinctively lean back.  I start to lose my balance as I’m backed up against the side of the bed. 

          Edward catches me and steadies me by placing his hands around my waist, his jaw clenching, his eyes still searching mine.  We’re both breathing fast,

          “Please, Bella.  Please, tell me it’s true.  Tell me that it’s you.”  One of his hands lifts, hesitates, and then cups my face. 

          My voice is caught in my throat, my mouth opens and closes impotently. 

          “For the love of God, please...” Edward begs, his eyes wild, his touch setting me alight. I can deny him no longer.

          “It’s me.”

          His whole body sags.  “It’s you?” he gasps. “It’s true?” 

          I nod and he lowers his forehead against mine.  “Isabella.”

          I smile and lift my hand to cover his where it rests against my cheek.  “You can still call me Bella.  I’m never Isabella unless I’m being reprimanded, or paying taxes.”

          He chuckles and lifts his other hand so that he’s holding my face.  Our noses touch together and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he hesitates. 

          “I need you to tell me one thing more, Bella Swan.”

          “What?” I ask immediately.  

          “Tell me you’re not seventeen.”

          I laugh and shake my head.  “I haven’t been seventeen in six years, Edward.”

          He pulls me closer and what was left of my laughter dies in my throat. 

          “That’s all I needed to hear.”

~(~)~


End file.
